Welcome to Our Porch, Fred

It seems we have acquired a cat.  By order of my husband, a strictly OUTDOOR cat.  

Our boys have named him Fred.

While he spent our entire suppertime meowing at us through the window a couple of nights ago, I had to make a confession to my hubby.  A couple of nights before THAT, I had heard Fred meowing continuously (and piteously) outside our front door late at night, just before going up to bed.   I tried to ignore it, because our last Cat Owner Experience ended with lots of frustration and was sad but a relief.  

But, for heaven's sake, there was a Polar Vortex out there.  So I said, 'OK, God, I don't think I have any cat food downstairs, but if for some reason I never got rid of Green Bean's food, it'll be my sign to feed the cat.' 

There was still cat food in the can.  

Turns out it had gone bad over the past year+, but HAVING cat food was the sign, so I gave the cat what I had: albacore tuna.  In the morning, the tuna was gone, and one little cat footprint was left in the snow beside it for a thank you.  

I kept hearing the cat meowing, but we didn't meet him until that night he sat in the window begging.  And now Fred is very, very glad for company when we go out to say 'hi.'  

And, of course, I bought a fresh bag of cat food.  I am a softie, but I'm not going to feed a cat (and who knows what else) on albacore tuna.  

Welcome to our porch, Fred.