Stretch, the cat who does not belong to us

We have this adorable black and white (mostly black) female cat living next door. I don't know if she's just unappreciated at her own home or what, but this cat loves us.

The minute one of us walks out the door, there she is, running up to us and then lolling around in the grass - which is cat for "Dude, I am giving you the most awesome opportunity right now - do you see how I'm inviting you to touch me? This is an amazing honor for you!"

Kyle was calling her something else for the longest time, Boots or something, and one day, sitting in the grass with her, I saw her collar. It has a tag on it - why had it never occurred to us to look at it? It's been a month or two.


I turn it over, the little heart-shaped metal tag:

"Stretch." Along with her address and owner's phone number.

Stretch? Really? I look at this plump kitty, who was now struggling to pull back from my grasp ("Dude, this is completely invasive. Do you see me clawing your earrings out? What the hell?") and ponder this.

But I suppose it doesn't matter what I think, she's not our cat. Even if she spends every possible minute with us and tries to squeeze into the house when we're bringing in groceries.