Keats was the kind of kitty that would invite himself into my unsuspecting neighbors’ condos. If they left a door ajar while bringing in groceries, they’d soon find a fluffy black cat surveying their property.

When I lived in the Foster-Powell neighborhood of Portland, Keats sometimes ventured inside my neighbors’ houses. In one instance, he trespassed into a nearby half-underground basement. The flimsy screen on a window was no match for Keats.

Upon discovering my cat in her basement, my neighbor took note of the name and number on his collar. He returned safely that afternoon, but I received an irritated phone call from her.

“Your cat barged into my basement. He broke the screen on the window.” Surprised, I paused for a moment and then apologized. I offered to pay for the damage. She refused. “No, I just wanted to let you know.” She exhaled loudly into the phone. I smiled, apologized again, and hung up. I think she mostly wanted to vent her frustrations. Her screen probably needed replacement if a cat could knock it down.

Because of his adventuresome spirit, I worried Keats would eventually get locked in someone’s house. The owner might leave town, and I would have no idea where he was. I decided to keep Keats indoors.

When I moved to the Kerns neighborhood of Portland, Keats tired of the walls of my condo. He longed to roam outside.

My heart melted when he stared out the window and cried, and I relented. I started to take him out with a harness and leash.

Luckily I live near Laurelhurst Park, one the city’s most beautiful outdoor spaces. Keats loved exploring the trails with me. Sometimes we would walk the full outside loop, which is about a mile.

Keats would set the pace — slow and halting. He would eat grass, lounge, and sniff all kinds of shrubbery.

During our forays, we would usually get attention. “Is that a cat on a leash?” people would murmur to their companions.

Fellow cat lovers would approach us. “Can I pet your cat?”

“I have a kitty that looks just like that!”

“How did you train your cat to walk on a leash?” To these latter questioners, I usually told them Keats walked me, I didn’t walk him.

Keats and I loved having picnics in a less populated, “secret” spot in the park. I would bring my plaid blanket, lunch for me, and some treats for Keats. The dogs that passed by often didn’t even notice him. He would rub up against me, so pleased to be outside. He watched his surroundings attentively. Squirrels would dart around, and birds would hop from tree to tree. Keats wondered if he could catch his dinner.

When leaving the park, Keats loved finding a wall parallel to the sidewalk. He’d jump up, or I’d lift him, and he’d continue walking next to me, 4 to 6 feet higher. I felt like the walls gave him a sense of independence, and he loved being closer to my height as we strolled.

If you have an outgoing cat like Keats, I encourage you to try walking him or her with a leash and harness. Bring ample patience, and let your kitty lead the way. You’ll open up your cat’s world, and create some memories you’ll never forget.

Here’s to you, Keats.