It was a mild October afternoon when the front porch cat wandered onto our street. Of course, he wasn’t the front porch cat at this point. He was the cul de sac cat.
I met him amidst the mailboxes and overgrown grass. Friendly and vying for attention, he tolerated the petting and the picking up a lot better than our current pet, the black and white cat.
At dusk, the cul de sac cat willingly followed us up the street where we hoped his owner or an amicable passerby in need of a furry friend might find him. We bid him farewell on the corner of Springhouse drive with an offering of chicken nuggets.
But the cul de sac cat came back, and bravely took up residence upon one of the white wicker chairs on our porch. It is perched upon this chair, he earned his namesake.
The front porch cat liked his chair, but he liked laps better. I would race up the hill after school each day and join him with a good book or some one-sided conversation. All the while wondering where he came from and how long he’d stay.
The front porch cat filled his days with bird watching and cat naps, and was always grateful for our company and offerings of off-brand cat food. Despite the occasional spat with the black and white cat, the front porch cat seemed as content as a clam in the sand as the newest resident of our humble abode. If cats can smile, I’m sure he did.
Autumn progressed, and the temperatures dropped. The front porch cat longed to venture inside with the laps and the snacks and the black and white cat, and I repeatedly asked if he could come inside and warm up. The winds whipped and the front porch cat waited, steadfast in his white wicker chair. I believe he knew long before we did, that we’d cave.
And so on one particularly cold November evening, the front porch cat made his way inside. Into our home and into our hearts as our beloved cat, Toby.
Epilogue:
On February 26th, my family and I made the tough decision to let Toby go and be with the black and white cat in feline heaven where he currently resides on finest of front porches.
