“Are you sure you want to get rid of it? It’s only three years old.”

“Yes. I’m going abroad next month—I can’t take it with me.”
“You can always find someone to adopt it.”
“Thanks.”
I looked at the cat, and it looked back at me.
“Go on outside and wait. I’ll handle it.”
He went out.
I picked up the cat and opened the back door.
“Let’s go.”
The cat ran off.
Ten minutes later, I came out: “All set.”
He paid and left.
The cat is now at my place, called “Back Door.”