Judith and her owner moved in this summer. She is let outside for part of most days, and usually runs to meet me when I get out of my car, which is a real emotional boost when it’s been tough or tiring away from home, to see this dark furry creature barreling down the steps toward you, purring loudly. She also has simply walked in to my apartment several times when I opened the door, nosing around the piles of lamp parts, fabric and jewelry components and chasing the dust bunnies out from under the furniture before I start to feel the allergies coming on and usher her out the door. She’s a very civil cat, and running around outdoors has been good for her physique—when she moved in, she was on the tubby side, but she’s slimmed down since. Because she was overweight, though, her tummy bags several inches, and the loose part swings back and forth when she trots, which is funny to watch. She’s delightfully furry, flexible and slightly mushy, like all good kitties. I’ve wanted to get a picture of her with the large the orange pumpkin that someone bought months ago and left whole on the stoop, but every time she’s near it I don’t have my camera, and the one on my phone is poor.
I never feed her, because I want her to know I am good just for love, not eats, and given the level of enthusiasm she displays around me (up to meowing outside my door for attention) I think she’s fine with this. I looked her over this evening, and her hide is also intact—looks like Mr. B’s cat didn’t land a paw.