A strange cat made friends with me today while I was outside reading. He came up to me as if I belonged to him, jumped in my lap and started sucking my thumb.
Needless to say, we bonded immediately.
I’ll admit, the thumb-sucking thing was a bit more than strange, but then, most cats are pretty strange in my eyes. He pseudo-nursed for about five minutes or so before I figured he must be hungry. So we (yes, we) went inside to get some milk. After he had his milk, he curled up in my lap. We talked and watched a pair of squirrels duke it out on the driveway. Then he sucked on my buttons, and fell asleep while I read.
I’m thinking now that the whole scenario was a mistake.
You see, Bob doesn’t speak much English, so I don’t think he fully understood what I meant when I told him that he’s not my cat and that he (apparently) lives outside while I live inside. Looking back on it all, I don’t think he understood when I asked him if he minded non-fat milk, either.
As I write this, Bob’s outside, starting at me through the screen door. I’m getting a little uncomfortable.
(Oh, and as for the other part of the title of this entry–well, let’s just say I didn’t have to look before I decided to call him Bob.)