Scraggly I Call Him

Scraggly I call him. Or her. Not sure. Doesn’t matter. Sex is irrelevant. He annoys me and adores me. I like him and talk to him. He has long messed up hair and looks well fed and clean despite his messy hair. He approaches me every day in the alley. I’m never sure if he wants something besides attention. Kind of like me. I don’t want to touch him because I don’t know where he’s been. He usually keeps his distance but tonight he went way over the edge.

 

I was on the back porch smoking with a cup of decaf coffee and trying to read when I hear that voice. I made the mistake of talking to him. The next thing you know he’s on the back steps next to me trying to get me to touch him. He even tried to drink my coffee and it seemed he wanted to read my book if he even knows how to read. Ignoring him didn’t work so I caved in and touched him. Of course he wanted more. I gave a little more attention and talked to him.

 

I finished my cigarette and grabbed my book and cup and said goodbye.

 

It mad me realize that I’m having enough problems sharing a house with someone. If I’m not ready for a casual relationship with a neighborhood cat then I’m not ready to have a cat or a pet. If I’m not ready to have a relationship with a cat then a human is out of the question.