Saturday afternoon, after my Hubby finished mowing the lawn, we heard cries from the bushes, like a kitten mewling in distress. We edged against the house into the bushes to find a grown cat, clearly terrified, far too skinny, and far too friendly.

He hasn’t left our yard since.

I couldn’t help it. I set food and water bowls by the front door while I waited for him to dart home. Nope. Kiddo named him Charlie,  picked him up, and carried him around the yard. He loved it. I sat out on the front bench reading; he jumped in my lap and purred, let me scratch his belly. I melted, fearing he’d be scared by the fierce storms we’d suffered lately and creaked open the ancient dog door to our porch. He found his way in and made himself at home.

Dammit. I don’t want or need another cat.

Our current pet, another rescued kitten we were suckered into, is rather a bitch. She will not be happy.

I rode around the neighborhood yesterday afternoon on my grandfather’s retro bike, pulling Lost Cat fliers from the basket and taping them to stop signs. This guy (and his cahones prove he is definitely a male) is a lover, and someone, somewhere must miss him, right? He’s so sweet we are fighting the urge to rip the fliers down.

He only leaves our porch to use nature’s litter box. He’s tried to sneak into the house even with mean kitty glaring at him from the other side of the glass door. He sleeps curled up against the kitchen window, as close as he can get to indoors, our home. I have no doubt he’d curl up with us in bed if we let him.

Dammit, we’re going to end up with another cat, aren’t we.

***How long do you wait for a possible outdoor cat to return home?  A week? A month?
How long until you decide he’s yours and take him to the vet and let him into your heart? Anyone?