The next-door neighbors have a cat. He’s about four months old, judging from his level of clumsiness, and he’s a complete sweetheart. He reminds me of my first cat at that age, in temperament and coloration, but the markings are different. I know all this because he figured out that the balcony rail of his people’s apartment is the same as the balcony rail of this place, and has been paying us occasional visits. I don’t think he expected to find a nice lady who gets cuddle-happy and giggly when he lands in her patio. Bonus for him, even if I refuse to let him inside. Bonus for me, since I can get my weekly recommended purr allowance in the privacy of my own balcony without the hassle of a litter box. This pleases me.
Purr.
