Our orange male tabby Pumpkin shot out the front door last night as I stood paying the pizza man. The escape artist ran down the slope of the front lawn. I hurried after him pleading for him to come back.
He slowed to a walk as he got to the sidewalk and kept walking south tentatively, ears twitching at the outdoor sounds only animals can hear. He waited for me to catch up and didn’t protest when I picked him up and took him back inside.
He has to be too smart to want to return to the constant danger and hunger he knew as a stray for at least the past two years. I can’t imagine how he ever got any sleep, which house cats do for an average of sixteen hours a day. I expect he is more appreciative now of his new home of almost seven weeks.