When I was a kid growing up, at some point a cat “adopted” us. What I mean by this is that this cat consented to let us admire it, pet it, and give it the free reign of our property. The cat had no tags but was actually a very pretty cat, and as most cats do, it took very good care of itself. I was somewhat indifferent to it until I realized that my mom didn’t like it, and at that point I became much more interested, and even, you could say, a “fan” of that cat.
One reason my mom didn’t like the cat is that it wanted free reign not only of our property, but of our house. When my mom would be carrying groceries into the house, the cat would try to run in. Well, my mom would have nothing to do with that, and so she decided to start spraying the cat with a water hose when it came around. The cat did not like that at all. And for a while it seemed that things had more or less settled down – the cat ran away when it saw my mom, but when it was just the rest of our family outside, the cat would happily walk between our legs and consent for us to give it a gentle scratch at just that place behind the ears which would make it loudly purr.






