Over the last week, the cat across the street—whose name is Casey—has been spending a fair amount of time on our porch. Phurball used to chase her off; even as an old man, he could keep the young whippersnappers out of his yard fairly well. Now when she sees the boys or I in the yard she trots across for a visit. My husband came out one night to find me sitting in the driveway petting her, and remarked “No wonder all the cats in the neighborhood think they live here.”
I can’t help it; this cat-magnet thing works both ways.
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