A Cat Named Mike: Part 1

Several weeks ago Jimmy and I noticed a small orange kitty had begun hanging out in our neighborhood. This isn't unusual. Outdoor cats are abundant in our rural neighborhood, and I'm sure strays are too, sadly.

At one point, we noticed the cat walked with a bit of a limp...a stiffness in one of its back legs. We felt bad for the kitty, and Jimmy suggested we take it in, only half-jokingly. I admonished him...we already have too many cats, and we're still trying to pick ourselves up from the recent rough year we've had. Besides, Lefty had had a limp...but had a loving home. It was probably just an old injury that hadn't healed properly. We moved on, not dwelling on it much.

Two weeks ago, I was outside on the porch (possibly putting a pumpkin on it). I turned towards the stairs (the main floor is a flight up), and halfway up them was that orange cat. Up close, he was smaller than I had thought, and looked quite young. He cautiously meowed at me...several times.

I slowly crouched down, and called to him. He immediately came up the stairs and begged for attention.

He spent the rest of the night on our porch. I fed him a can of wet food, and he ate the entire plate. I later followed it up with some dry food...and he ate a bit of that too. He was very skittish...flinching at the slightest movement or noise...whether it be made by me, a passing car, or squirrel in a tree.

When I woke up that morning, he was still on my porch.