Backstory: My cat, Sukoshi, has been missing now for over three weeks. He bolted from the new house and despite doorknocking, posters and frantic calls to the RSPCA and local council, no trace of him has been discovered. Needless to say I have not been happy. Have. Not. All I can do is hope that my cat is a smart cat.
The next-door-neighbour-but-one's cat (who by some cruel coincidence looks almost exactly like my cat, only smaller and louder) has been spending a lot of time round at my place, sitting on my lap. It's like he knows. Or something. He stands outside the front door and yells until we let him in, then he saunters in like he owns the place and rubs his cheeks on things. His name, I recently found out, is Little Man. Both my neighbours and their cat are cool.
Recent Developments: Anna and I were tucked up in bed, tired out from an evening of scrabble and dishes and wasabi-tuna-salad sandwiches. I was being maudlin. There was a space between us in bed, and I was all "That's the perfect space for my cat. I wish my cat was curled up in that space."
As if on cue, Little Man starts yelling outside the front door. We debate getting out of bed to let him in. He isn't really our cat, after all. But we hear Peter relenting; he opens the front door, but Little Man has vanished. Then he starts yelling again - this time he comes in, runs into my room and jumps up on the bed, straight into the space between Anna and I. I'm all like, "Hey, Little Man."
And after a split second, Anna says "That's not Little Man."
Hugs and champagne and kitten kisses all round.
My cat is a smart cat.