Cathouse Wednesday on Loran Road

It's Cathouse Wednesday here on Loran Road.  I live with someone who sees no reason to have pets in the house.  And it's his house.  My Old Fat Bastard Cat lives in the shop, it's heated and there are many nooks and crannies to explore, a couple of Labrador Retrievers to lord it over.  Perfect.

Boris likes the shop, but on Wednesday nights - bowling night for the Man of the House - Boris gets to stalk around the house, checking out doorways, looking out the big sliding glass door, making sure all is to his satisfaction.  He prowls the hallway, crawls under beds, peers in the bathtub.  He rolls on the rug and invites a tummy rub.  Sometimes he gets onto the couch for a thorough ear-scratching.  He flashes, purrs and vamps.  He's shameless.

He then hoists his fine tail and stalks to the kitchen door.  His work here is done, and he retreats to his Shop Domain.

A re-post, an ode to Boris:

I have a cat who wears his
gray pin-striped suit with aplomb,
a gentleman cat who seeks
my company,
and purrs in my lap.

If I had a man like that,
I'd feed him good
and stroke his back.
I'd admire his fine gray pint-striped suit.

And I'd swoon
as he purred in my lap.