Smudge

This guy isn’t my kitty in any sense, but I am starting to feel a little possessive of him. I’ve been seeing him around the neighborhood for a couple of years, all skittish and thin, and I always thought he was a feral cat. But one day he decided he trusted me, and now he’ll often come to me and let me pet him. Now I think maybe he’s abandoned.

I see him behind my building a lot, but more and more he’s spending mornings like this, curled up on a padded chest we have on our fire escape. For some reason, it’s always mornings, and rarely afternoons, even though afternoon is the only time this spot gets direct sun. Another strange thing: He usually bolts when I open the fire escape door. He doesn’t seem to recognize me as the nice lady who pets him on the sidewalk. On the fire escape, I’m suddenly the angel of death hell-bent on possessing him.

His (sometimes) friendliness leads me to believe he once had a home, but whatever name he may have had is lost now. So I call him Smudge. He’s not the prettiest kitty on the block, but he may be the toughest, so he’s got that going for him.