Most cats have a human or a family, but our cat has a town. He is a big, fluffy ginger cat and can be seen haunting Market Street or sunning himself on Queen’s Gardens. He deigns to be petted by the occasional commoner, but is usually aloof in a regal and leonine way, which can only be expected from a cat that has a town.
He was walking ahead of me on my way to church this morning. I was going to greet him as I passed, even if the two older ladies walking toward us overheard. Just as I opened my mouth, one of the older women called brightly, “Good morning, Hamish!”
See, I’m not the only one.