Meet Bob. He shows up at the crack of dawn, meowing nonstop on the porch until I serve breakfast.
Sometimes he knocks on the door with his paw to speed things up.
Bob is not my cat. I don’t have a cat.
Bob is feral. He keeps his distance. Touching is not allowed — yet.
Apparently, my only job is feeding him.
Related Posts
I saved a kitten in my neighborhood and was not prepared for how mean people would be I live in a condo community. Back in the end…
After losing my precious kitty of 10 years to a stroke, I decided to adopt another cat. Being 76 myself, I didn’t want to get a young…
My mate and I were out shopping in October when there was a sudden rainstorm. We pulled into a grocery store parking lot and saw a poor…
