When we first moved into our flat last year a cat appeared at our doorstep. He was black and thin and intent on getting in through the front door. 'Hooray,' I thought, 'we have a cat!' 'Oh no!' Jeremy thought, 'we have a cat.'
I soon found out that the cat belonged to a guy who lived upstairs, but regularly visited anyone who'd give him attention. Jeremy is allergic to cats (I never thought I could ever end up with someone like this!) so the cat only comes to visit me when Jeremy is out. I feed him because he is so skinny and hide the cat food from Jeremy. Sometimes Jeremy finds it while looking for a tin of beans at the back of the cupboard and gives me a despairing sigh.
His real name is Loopy, but I have a range of names for him. Sometimes I think he's really just hungry for affection. Then when he's had his fill he sits patiently at the inside of our front door until I let him out. Off he goes to the neighbours, to make them feel sorry for him too.
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