“Hello, I think! I know I’m one handsome grey tabby guy – but what are all these other cats doing here? Did they follow me? Did I follow them? Zowsers, there’s a lot of them! Mind if I just sit up here, out of the way? What if they stampede? Yikes. I am a dignified gentleman. Am I here? Why am I here?”

“I think I’m about one year old. I’m soft and very pettable. It seems I was out for a stroll, and along came Animal Control. They said, ‘Cat, what are you doing?’ I said, ‘I’m walking myself.’ They said, ‘Where’s your chaperone?’ I said, ‘I don’t have one. Only dogs have chaperones. You know I am a cat!’ They said, ‘We’re going to send you to Feline Rescue where you can find your very own chaperones; you just can’t walk yourself. It’s not allowed.’”

“So the story is that all these other cats were out walking themselves, too? Must be a lot of us doing it – maybe it should be OK. Say, how would you like to be my chaperone? I can have a whole family of chaperones, I guess – doesn’t have to be just one. I’m very nice, usually quiet, and I’m so handsome to look at. I can sit up straight – like the Sphinx; I can curl myself into a meatloaf ball. How about applying for the position: Cat Chaperone.”

“Did you know I have a town named for me in County Kildare, Ireland? I do – and the weather I see out the window over there looks just like Irish weather – damp, rainy, and rather dreary. Am I in Ireland? Am I in my town of Newbridge?”

“Tell you what – stop over to Feline Rescue, bring $120, and apply to be my Cat Chaperone. Newbridge is a great Cat Guy, and I’ll bet the other cats in this herd don’t have towns named after them. I’m staying up here, out of the traffic, and – I’m handsome. Did I mention that?”