He’s not mine.
I don’t know who he belongs to. He has a collar and is in relatively good health so he apparently has an owner somewhere. He wasn’t letting me near him to check to see if he had tags on his collar.
I think he got freaked out by the storm yesterday and decided the rocking chairs on my front porch are the perfect place to hide. Which is only somewhat correct.
I noticed him when I was leaving yesterday afternoon and should have called Animal Control but I figured maybe he needed a moment to recuperate (I usually make animals out to be smarter than they are because when I think the other way around I end up being wrong) and that he’d move on once the storm settled, plus I was heading over to Scott’s to take care of Oreo and was running a little late.
He was still there when I got home last night. Animal control is only open during business hours and to be honest I just don’t see the point in the drama of calling the police to have them come get him when I can call animal control in the morning. He doesn’t appear to be hurt, but he’s soaked and he’s scared. He did somewhat begrudgingly allow me to drape a few large towels on him and quit growling when I put some food out for him. I expected he’d still be there this morning. Meantime his name is Roger.
Hell, I’d even let Roger in the house if he was more friendly and if I knew he wouldn’t try to eat the cat. He’s not vicious or mean or dangerous but he’s scared and I’m sure there’s someone out looking for him. Although they probably aren’t calling him Roger. And I feel really really awful that I didn’t call animal control earlier yesterday. He’s still here this morning and I’m going to call animal control but since they don’t open until 11 am (damn suburbs) he’ll be here until then. Poor guy. I hope he’s reunited soon.