This forlorn kitty appeared on our doorstep last evening around dusk.
For the sake of continuity and to officially attach myself to the kitty, I will say he is male and his name is Boots. Boots made himself known and is still doing so as I type, by meowing so loudly I can hear him from inside the house way in the front bedroom. After a while, I realized all he really wants is some love and attention. And to be pet and possibly come live inside our house.
Excited, I texted my dear husband a picture captioned 'He was meowing so pitifully.' and his two word response: 'Oh no'. He knows my wretched weakness for cats.
God bless Boots. It sounds like he's had a tough life. He's skinny (although I have seen worse) and dirty. My lovely cats (shh, don't let them know about this or they might feel jealous) would turn up their snobby noses in disdain. Yes, I even pet Boots. I made sure to wash & scrub my hands for 5 minutes after I was done, though.
Oh, and I may or may not have also proceeded to feed Boots. All I had fit for a cat was a can of crabmeat. Boots wasn't picky at all. Unlike my lovely, spoiled little darlings.
Much to my husband's delight dismay, there is a 99.9999% chance that Boots will be back very soon.