Boycat walks me home every afternoon.
He sits at the house on the corner, sunning himself in their yard, waiting to hear me walk past, where he’ll launch himself through their fence, run to my feet and promptly curl himself onto the ground for a belly rub.
Only, he doesn’t allow you to give him the belly rub. He gets up and runs ahead of you for a few steps, then repeats the process, all the way to the big tree at our next door neighbour’s yard.
Then, he races me.
I decided one day to stop racing him, and he walked out onto the road, ghosting between the cars parked there. We reached the driveway at the same time. He walked ahead of me, picked up the pace whilst watching me out the corner of his eye. I lifted my leg to run, but the movement must have alerted him, and he was off.
In a few seconds, he’d beaten me to the front door again, and gave himself his victory bath on the front step while he waited for me to catch up.
He’s not able to run right now, having been bitten in a fight last week, so I’m doing some secret training while he’s lounging around in bed all day.
Little shit’s not gonna know what hit him.