and his name is Cat.
We bathed off his usual sheen of motoroil last night. I can’t lie, when he curls up on me feet and hides from the rain under my groucho pant legs, I want to bring him inside forever. However, in the process of bathing him, a rash broke out on my arm and we discovered he has fleas. He’s also unfixed and a natural predator of our other pets. It makes absolutely no sense to adopt him.
Except for the sweet look he gives you when you shut the door in his face.