“Well, then he shouldn’t be outside, then, should he?” Ginger snapped. “And you should be careful. Next thing you know, you’ll be all soft and spoiled like he is, and you won’t remember how to live without a human.”
“But I like Jake,” Romeo protested. “So what if he lives inside? So what if he walks with his human on a leash? Most cats like him don’t even get to go outside at all, so really, he’s luckier than most of them. He gets to have both outside and inside. That’s not so different from us, you know, when you compare us to the trainyard cats.”
Ginger’s ears flicked sharply backwards, and Romeo knew he’d hit a nerve. Without another word, she turned her back on him and pointedly began grooming a hind paw. Well, fine, thought Romeo. Let her sulk, then. The silent treatment may have been meant to be a punishment, but it was a huge improvement compared to her yowling.
Not wanting to be around to face her when she got over herself, Romeo got up and squeezed himself under the bottom of the fence. He wasn’t sure where he was going to go, but he needed to get out of the yard for a while. Without really thinking about it, he turned his paws in the direction Jacoby and his human had gone.
What was the big deal, anyway? Romeo thought as he walked. So Jake lived in a house with a human. What difference did that make? He was still a cat. He still slept in the sun and buried his business. Why should it matter where he lived?