You Don’t Choose The Cat; The Cat Chooses You


You Don’t Choose The Cat; The Cat Chooses You!

In late 2019, a scrawny orange cat started showing up in my yard. 

Me: “Did you see the new cat?”

Husband: “No new cats. Two is enough.”

Me: “I’m not saying I want him—”

Husband: “But you do.”

Me: “Well…”

Husband: “No new cats. You can feed him when he comes around but don’t attract any more wildlife.”

I set out a small bowl of food every time I see the cat. When winter comes, the orange cat sleeps on our porch. I set up a Styrofoam home for him and line it with old towels. 

Husband: “What is that?”

Me: *Innocently* “Hm? Oh, this?”

Husband: “Why does that look like a feral cat shelter?”

Me: “Oh, does it? Interesting.”

Husband: *Sigh* “He can stay on the porch but he can’t come in the house.”

Me: “Okay.”

Spring arrives with the usual downpour of rain. One night, during a particularly bad storm, we hear a faint noise outside the door. 

Husband: “Is that the cat we’re not keeping?”

Me: “Might be.”

My husband opens the door to find the cat soaked, his fluffy fur matted down against his body. He meows pitifully, rubbing on the door frame.

Husband: *To the cat* “Well, don’t just stand there. You’re letting the rain in!”

The cat walks in and my husband closes the door. He scoops the cat up and carries it to the bathroom.

Husband: “You’re a con artist. You know that?”

The cat starts purring and headbutting my husband.

Husband: “Yeah, yeah. You’re going back out when it’s done raining. You hear me?”

That cat hasn’t been outside in six years. He and my husband are best friends, but if anyone asks, my husband tells them it was the cat’s idea to stay and he had no control.

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