constance | for now, you're going to stay. (Reply)

A conversation:

[My mother and I are pulling into my driveway on our way to lunch, on account of I have to go home to let the dog out before we eat. There's a grey tabby cat sitting on the stepping stones laid between the driveway and the front walk.]

Mother: There's a cat sitting on your stepping stones!

Me: Yeah, it's one of the strays B [my next door neighbor, but not the Miss B. whose life I ruined a couple of years ago] feeds. Her car was gone for a while, and this guy looked hungry, so I fed him, and he visits sometimes now, so I just kept feeding him in case B's gone. This is the first time he's been waiting for me, though! The bowl on the porch must be empty.

Mother: ...

Me: What?

Mother: You know that's your cat now, right?

Me: No, it's not! He's B's, if he's anyone's. I just feed him sometimes.

Mother: Cammy, it's waiting for you to feed it. Do you feed it Rachel's food?

Me: Uh, no. I bought him his own food because Rachel's on indoor formula weight control food.

Mother: Uh-huh. What'd you name him?

Me: I didn't name him, because he's not my cat!

Mother: He has his own food. He eats on your porch. He sits in your yard and waits for you to come home. He lets you pet him. I got news for you, babe. He's your cat. So name him.