What are you looking at little cat?

I'm by no means an expert on the facial features of cats, but there is one expression, common to all members of the species, that I've come to recognise: the one that say "mine". You might have witnessed it yourself from time to time, if a cat has come up and brushed itself against you, or deigned to allow you to touch or pet it. "Mine" the cat says, regarding you with evident self-satisfaction.

There are many cats where I live. None of them are mine, but I think several cats have started to lay claim to me. At first I thought it was just one particular feline, the large black and white moggy with a fondness for my doormat, but today I strolled around my flat with the distinct feeling that I was being watched. It turns out it was no mere paranoia on my part. A pair of eyes peered through the my window. The eyes in question belonged to a rather handsome silvery grey cat perched up the window ledge outside. It's a cat I've seen before - only yesterday I caught it coming of out the open window of a neighbour's flat, it's feigned air of nonchalance obviously masking a guilty conscience. I tickled it, then, behind it's ears for moment or two before it darted off. Today it's eyes continued to follow me around my flat as I walked around. I went outside, and cautiously walked up to it. The cat allowed me to approach, and when I petted it again, it turned lazily onto it's back and allowed me to scratch it's belly for a bit. Once it had tired of my attentions it batted my hand away with it's paw, claws noticeably visible. It looked at me, still hoarding my window ledge. The expression on it's face said "mine".

For some reason I like cats and enjoy their company. On days like this, I'm increasingly given to wonder why...