Years and years ago, Leon, the cat, and I would sit on our side stoop and discuss how great it would be to have a screened porch. Even when the better-half and I demolished the stoop, Leon and I would sit in the rubble and imagine how great the porch would be.
Fast forward to the past week and a half. Leon is addicted to the porch. He can’t get enough of it. He sits out there even if it is 90 degrees and the humidity is crazy. This is the cat who has pulled out his fur because it is too hot for him. He wants to spend the night out there which is fine if it is cool enough for us to leave the door to the house open. Lately, though, it has been jungle moist and hot outside so the door is closed.
When I get home from work, I let Leon outside. Or, I should say, I open the basement door so he can go out. Sometimes he does actually leave the house. Lately he has turned up his nose and heads, instead, upstairs to the porch door. I let him out. He stays out there for hours and hours.
Late at night the better-half coaxes Leon in the house and for the past several nights Leon has hissed at him. It happened to me the other morning when I was trying to get him to come back inside. There are things in this world that bother me and being hissed at by a spoiled cat is one of them. This morning when the plaintive meowing and sitting in front of the door started, I told him no that he was getting too big for his britches. As a result, he decided to climb under the bedspread in our guest bedroom to wait out the day. You read that right–he sleeps between the sheet and the bedspread so we only see a large lump in the middle of the bed.