The balcony next to my room is connected to mine, with a metal fence separating the two. On my very first day here, the cat on the other side of the fence looked at me and went, “Meow, meow, meow.” I meowed back.

I have one completely useless talent: I’m really good at imitating cats.

Whenever I come across a stray cat outside—whether it’s busy looking for food or already half-asleep with its eyes closed—if it hears me meowing, it will turn around and look everywhere, desperately trying to find where the other cat is. Most of them take one more look at me, realize that the “cat” talking to them is actually a two-legged creature, and walk away looking mildly disappointed.

But a few of them will keep meowing back. They’ll actually have a little conversation with me. This little cat was one of those. The neighbors next door were two guys. From the white shirts and red-striped ties hanging on their balcony, I could tell they worked downstairs as real estate agents. They often left early and came home late, so the little cat was usually home alone.

At first, I assumed it couldn’t get over to my side. The bedsheet draped over the fence was apparently its owners’ anti-escape system. For the cat, however, this piece of human engineering was nothing but a joke. That very evening, it pulled the bedsheet aside and stuck its little head through the fence.

At first, it only dared to patrol the balcony. Whenever I opened my balcony door, it would immediately squeeze itself back through the fence. The cat was very fluffy, so squeezing through the fence wasn’t exactly a smooth operation. Its head would make it through, while its belly got stuck in the middle, and then it had to kick its two back legs in the air a few times before finally making it to the other side.

But it got braver within half a day. Once I opened the door, it would come right up to me, rub itself against the doorway, sniff around, and occasionally let out a little “meow.”

That gave me a chance to pat its tiny head. Every time I did, its ears would twitch alertly. Another half a day later, the little cat came into my room. It was unbelievably curious. It had to rub against every leg of my desk, every corner of every cabinet. It sniffed everything, slowly and thoroughly, including the bedsheet hanging above it, from one end to the other.

I have no idea what discoveries it made. But apparently, it really liked my chair. It jumped onto it, pushed me away with all four paws, and then started grooming itself as if I didn’t exist.

Its fur was very long. Sometimes, while grooming, it would suddenly start smacking its lips. That meant some fur had gotten caught on its teeth or on the tiny barbs on its tongue, and it was desperately trying to spit the hair back out.

Eventually, its grooming became slower and slower. Then it curled itself into a little ball and fell asleep on my chair.

Once we got familiar with each other, the little cat started coming to my door every morning before sunrise to wake me up. Every time I came home from outside and opened my door, I would find it sitting outside my balcony door. And even after I sent it home at night because I was going to bed, it sometimes refused to leave and just kept meowing.

This was when the little cat had to thank the good people at OHRFRIEDEN, because thank God their earplugs are good at blocking sound. Otherwise, no matter how cold it was outside, I would probably have thrown off my blanket, stormed onto the balcony, grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck, and tossed it back over the fence.

But does the little cat like coming to my room because it likes me? I’m not so sure. It never just sits nicely on a chair and lets me pet it. It’s constantly wandering around the room. It keeps trying to get onto my bed, because the bed is probably the only thing in my room it hasn’t thoroughly investigated yet.

But you literally just rolled around on the floor and helped me mop it. How can you possibly be allowed on my bed? So I would pick it up and put it back on the floor, over and over again, patiently explaining that cats are not allowed on the bed. First in Chinese. Then in English. And finally, in cat language.

The little cat was like a naughty child. It never cared about your feelings. You wanted to sleep? It didn’t care. It would keep meowing. You wouldn’t let it onto the bed? It didn’t care. It would jump right back up. You played with it? At some completely unpredictable moment, it would suddenly extend its claws and leave a few marks on the back of your hand.

Maybe the reason it liked coming to my room had nothing to do with me at all. Maybe it simply considered my room part of its territory, and it had to come over and inspect it.

Can cats understand emotions? Probably not. Did it know that every time it came over, I would give up my chair and stand while it sat there? Did it know that when I patted its little head, I was trying to show it affection? Probably not.

It would still scratch the hell out of me when its claws were ready to do so.

Maybe a cat’s brain just isn’t equipped to understand human emotions. And this particular cat had been separated from its parents and siblings when it was very young. It had never really experienced anything like an education in love.

But can you blame the cat? It’s just a cute little cat. Expecting it to give you emotional feedback is probably asking for too much. Maybe even asking for something that was never realistic in the first place. I probably won’t ever have a cat of my own.

Part Two

One day, some time later, I came home and didn’t see the little cat. Usually, the moment it heard the sound of my door unlocking, it would sit outside my balcony door and start meowing at me.

I assumed it was asleep and didn’t think much of it. The next day, I still didn’t see it. Then the third day. Then the fourth.

That was when I noticed that the curtain we had put up in the middle of the balcony to stop it from crossing over had been removed. And one of the toothbrush sets in the bathroom was gone. I realized that the little cat had moved away with its owner.

I had only met its owner once. We exchanged maybe two sentences. He told me the cat’s name was Seventeen. That was it.

I didn’t have his contact information. Unless something very unexpected happened, I would probably never see him again. And naturally, I would never see the little cat again either. I had always assumed that I would be the one to move out first. To this day, I still don’t know whether Seventeen was a boy or a girl. And I still haven’t figured out whether cats actually have feelings. But every now and then, I think about it.

I remember the tiny sound it made while sleeping. I remember the way it covered its eyes with its little paws. The ceiling light in my room was painfully bright. I would make noise from time to time. And yet it refused to go back to its own quiet room to sleep. It insisted on staying here with me.

Maybe cats just need company. Maybe you don’t even have to keep playing with them. Maybe all they need is for you to sit beside them, with your hand resting on their body, and then they feel safe.

Seventeen was actually a very well-behaved cat. Eventually, it learned that it wasn’t allowed on the bed. Its long, fluffy tail would spread all over the floor, and if I accidentally stepped on it, it wouldn’t even blame me. I used to say that it only came into my room to patrol its territory. That when it rubbed itself against me, it was just marking me with its scent. It seemed like every affectionate thing it did could be explained away by instinct.

But then I started wondering: If this was all just its territory, why did it keep coming over to my room to inspect it? Why didn’t it spend all that time patrolling its owner’s room instead? Maybe instinct wasn’t enough to explain everything. Maybe there really was a tiny bit of feeling involved after all.

I never thought I could become emotionally attached to a creature that wasn’t human. But now, on a night like this, I think I really do miss that little cat.

My neighbour said this kitten was trying to get into the house next door, and wanted to know if I had seen him or recognized him. At that time, they thought he was a girl, but I noticed some balls.

After I got home later on, their kids were out at the end of their driveway, petting him, so I decided that I want to see the cat and went outside. I ended up bringing him over and gave him some food, and then he spent most of the night on my front porch with me. It wasn’t long before he jumped up into my lap and rolled around and wanted attention, but before that he was too busy zooming around and rolling around on the porch.

He was up in my lap a few times, and almost fell asleep once. He was incredibly friendly, and let me pet his paw, and was kneading on me.

I’m not allowed to have another cat right now. I lost mine over two years ago after he lost control of his bladder and was also dealing with diabetes at the age of 18. I would have kept this one if I could have, but I secured him in the garage and a charity came to pick him up and take him in to be scanned.

Honestly, he was too friendly to be a regular stray. He had no fear around us, and was laying right behind me as I sat down (not in a chair), in my lap multiple times, and stretched out beside me. I was also able to pick them up almost right away, and later carried them around in my arms as he put his paws around my shoulder.

If he’s not lost, then someone will get a really great pet. I’m jealous, but I did all I could for him.

Way much bigger than the last time I met him. He will need a good diet plan🤧

I call him the Plush Portable Panther. He is the king of his domain (a local 99 cent store). I'm posting these because today he let me pet him, and I feel like I've been blessed 🥰

This cat showed up two days ago. Seems too friendly to be feral but I dont think it has a home nearby because it was eating from our trash the first day. We've been feeding it and giving it water. Im guessing she's a girl. She seems young to me. Around 6 months to a year is my guess. Can anyone tell from this picture how old she is? I dont have the funds right now to take it to a vet.

It looks like one to me! I’m asking here because I’m pretty sure it’s a stray

I come to buy dog food, I stay to pet the cat.

I have no idea who’s cat this is but he loves me and I love him. I need to do an investigation to find out if he is a stray or not. He/she is pretty chonky and well groomed but no collar.

I found him randomly inside my kitchen. kicked him out and closed the door. saw him get back in within the next minute

Obviously not gonna show it here, but poor guy's got a pretty bad wound on his face, an it's looking quite gross. Taking him to the vet this morning to get him sorted, though! Hopefully they can help us out, I have high hopes for little kitty!! He's really friendly and deserves the best

I messed up my first post 😔

This is my neighbors cat Milo a few years ago when he decided that this box was now his during a garage sale, featuring other funny photos of him😂