A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words || Adventures with the Cat in the Red Scarf

If there's one thing I've learned in life, it's this: never underestimate a cat. Especially the neighbor's cat who likes to hang out on my porch every morning.

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Sweetie-as I call her because of her orange fur like candied oranges-has a habit that is both very annoying and adorable. Every morning at 6 am, she will sit in front of my glass porch door, staring with her big eyes like car headlights, demanding breakfast like a king demanding tribute.

"But you're not my cat!" I always argue, talking to a cat as if she can understand the logic of ownership and territoriality.

Of course, Sweetie doesn't care about my (in my opinion) very reasonable argument. She will just sit there, occasionally scratching the glass door with her claws that-by God-can make a sound more terrifying than a frying pan being scratched with a metal fork.

One morning, half-asleep, I decided to do a little experiment. I put an empty bowl in front of her, hoping she would understand that the "restaurant" was closed. Know what she did? She looked at the bowl, then at me, and then with great grace-and I swear there was a grin on his face-she pushed the bowl off the porch.

KLONTANG!

The sound was loud enough to wake up the entire housing complex. And there Sweetie sat, still with an innocent expression as if to say, "Oops, looks like the bowl fell. Maybe you should fill it with food so this doesn't happen again?"

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Even funnier, the original owner-Mr. Hendra from next door-one day told me that Sweetie actually had three "regular" houses that she visited every morning. "Oh, so I'm not the only one who gets ripped off?" I asked, half relieved and half betrayed.

"She's like a traveling salesman," said Mr. Hendra, laughing. "But instead of selling something, she's the one asking to be fed."

Now, every morning I always prepare extra cat food. Not because I lost, but because I’ve learned that sometimes in life, we have to give in to a more intelligent–or in this case, more manipulative–being.

And Sweetie? She still comes every morning, still with the same look, and still acting like she’s the real owner of my porch. But at least my bowl is safe from “mysterious falls” now.

As the old saying goes, which I just made up: “You may think you’re taking care of a cat, but it’s really the cat taking care of your patience.”