Il gatto del cortile

In the courtyard of my building lives a cat very old. It has the fur orange and white, with small stripes on the back. It sleeps all the day under the car of Giorgio. No one knows how many years it has, but it is here since forever, since when I was a boy small. Also my mother him remembers so.

The neighbors him call with names different. The lady Rosa him calls Tiger, because it has the stripes yellow. The child of the first floor him calls Micio. My father him calls simply Cat. Every name works well, and the cat responds to everyone with the tail high. For us he is only the cat of the courtyard.

Every morning, the lady Rosa puts a plate of milk on the windowsill. The cat climbs up, drinks a bit and then goes away. In the evening, he sleeps on the bench near to the tree big. At times watches the birds with interest, but not runs anymore. He is too old to run. He stays there in silence until evening.

The courtyard is the his home. All the children of the building him know. When rains hard, someone opens the door of the garage and he enters right away. Not is the cat of no one in particular, but is the cat of all us. It is the cat of the courtyard. All him love well.