sarameg, you're not the only softie. A cat tried to adopt me last night. About 9:30 there was a series of loud meows outside my door. Like a sap I went to look, and there on the walkway was a medium-sized cat. He was short-haired (gray above, cream below), long-tailed, vocal, friendly, and painfully thin--his cheeks, shoulders, ribs, and hips were all sharp and bony.
He wanted attention. He was head-bumping and shin-stropping, and twice flopped down on his side in that "See, you can even rub my tummy!" way. He had no collar, but he had been neutered. I suppose he had been somebody's pet who either wandered off or was abandoned. He seemed a nice guy who just needed some feeding up and some TLC.
I brought him a bowl of water, and went down to the corner store for some cat food. (See above, re: sap.) He was still on my doorstep when I returned, so I opened a can for him and left him to it.
About once an hour after that he would make a few enquiring calls, but he wasn't a long talker or a yowler, thank goodness. After three hours I couldn't ignore him any more and went outside to see how he was doing. Half the food was still there, so I guess he wasn't as hungry as I expected him to be. Problem was, the leftovers were attracting ants. I worried that if I left the food and water out until morning they would attract unwelcome attention from the nosy old couple in the apartment next door, so I threw the can away and brought in the water dish.
I thought about the local animal shelter. They could scan him for an ID chip, but if they didn't find an owner or an adopter fairly quickly they might kill him. I didn't like his chances.
I wanted to let him in. I couldn't let him in. The internal debate was painful.
When I checked an hour later, he was gone. I've been fretting all day about whether I did the right thing.
If he comes back, well, I still have one can of cat food in the cupboard.