He is always so well groomed. He lives indoors. No danger. Food always available to him. And he probably sleeps on some wonderful fluffy thing or another. He is rarely in the rain. Never dirty. Gets petted and talked to all the time. Whenever the loud, rolling machine leaves with them inside, he gets to go along. I have to stay. By myself.
Every time I see him, he's hooked to a leash.
The old cat gave a long, walking stretch and hopped up on the wicker porch chair. Content.