We don't have a cat

We don't have a cat. Honestly we really don't. Yes, we put out food for Fredlet every evening. Yes, we do let him come inside. Yes, we have started to let him up on the furniture (although the only time he is allowed on the couch is when he has my Mom's lap between his fur and the cushions). It is true that now my day isn't really complete until I have pet Fredlet and curled up with him for a while. It's true that he now has his own bed, which is a dining room chair with the seat covered in an old bathroom rug. It's true that we leave the garage door open a little bit so he can come in from the rain at night after we put him outside. It's true that we put a flea collar on him and have gotten some of those drop things that we'll put on his fur as soon as the scratch on his tummy heals all the way. Okay, so he now can paw at the door and we'll open it. Okay, so he has "conversations" with us. Okay, so tonight I was in a different room from him for a minute and he let out a meow that could have risen some slain vampires (been watching Buffy), the response to which was my running out into the hall to see if somehow he had hurt himself and he--after seeing my worried face--flopped down on the floor in a patented cat "I'm so cute, come pet my tummy" pose. All of the above things are very true. But we do not have a cat. No way. The cat has us.