The cat with no name


It happens like clockwork.

Within minutes of giving leave of the cat with no name, it returns.

It’s out there right now, laying underneath my red and tan beach chair as the apartment complex pool is filled with the shouts and laughter of kids on summer break with nowhere else to go.

It’s claimed the balcony as its own.

It started off innocently enough. With an open door as groceries were brought into the one-bedroom apartment.

It ventured in a few feet, investigating the dividing line between the carpet of the living room and the wood flooring of the kitchen. Its presence noticed, it darted back outside.

There was a collar, but no name.

Later, its curiosity got the best of it and it welcomed the offering of some Oscar Meyer bologna. Then again, again and again.

One morning brought my routine of opening the balcony door to let some cooler air in.

It also brought the cat. Ten feet couldn’t keep it away from more bologna.

I welcomed the company as I worked. Working from home can be a lonely experience, especially when it’s tax month.

Everytime I place the cat on my door, it returns. From doorway to balcony, in no time at all.

I’ve yet to see this incredible effort take place.

This is what happens you’re adopted by a cat with no name.

About Daniel McFadin

NASCAR writer for Former Sporting News intern. Graduated from IUPUI in Indianapolis with a master in sports journalism in 2014 and from Arkansas State University in 2013 with a degree in Journalism. Originally from Lewisville, Texas, now in Fort Worth. Ask me if I like Star Wars. I dare you.
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2 Responses to The cat with no name

  1. Pingback: You know you’re nearly broke when… | Daniel McFadin's Other Blog

  2. Pingback: A Tale of Life, Death and Cats | Daniel McFadin's Other Blog

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