Not long after we moved here to Trenton, a new face showed up at our front door… side door… garage door… etc…
Hoping to get in whatever door he found.
At first we called him Stinky, because, well, he stinks. You see, he gets most of his meals digging in the dumpster just around the corner at the bar. His excursions do not leave him smelling very pleasant. We thought at first he was homeless, but later found out that he belongs to our neighbor’s daughter who is away at college.
His name is Milo.
He now spends most of his nights in our garage curled up on the chair that we have left out for him, eating the food we have put out for him, and occasionally sneaking in to get a drink when I let him.
Shhhhhhh, don’t tell the kids, but if it gets brutally cold, I will probably let him in the laundry room to keep warm. I can’t stand the thought of anything outside freezing to death.
You see, the kids are convinced that he should become our cat.
No, on two counts.
1st: He is someone else’s cat. (The sheriff’s daughter’s, to be exact.)
2nd: We already have enough cats. (And one of mine isn’t especially fond of Milo.)
If the kids knew I was already planning for his warmth and comfort during the harshness of winter, they would think they have me hook, line, and sinker.