Silverman wasn’t here at 4:30 a.m. when Romeo woke me up to say it was time for breakfast. Now I’m feeling like an obsessive parent with a kid who’s out past curfew.

I shouldn’t worry. It’s a dark, moonless morning, the kind that cats love to be out in.

For most of his life, Silverman was kind of a ghost cat. In the house irregularly, around the edges of things, an eat-and-run cat. His failure to appear on time for one meal wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow.

But things are different now. He’s getting to be an older cat, likely about 12 years. And he’s transformed himself into a mostly in-the-house cat who enjoys sprawling out on our furniture, relaxing in his own room downstairs, and eating in a designated spot.

And then there’s the new feeding pattern. We no longer leave cat food freely available throughout the day. Now it’s eat at meal time and then wait for the next meal. It has resulted more regular appearances for morning and evening head counts.

Then one of them doesn’t show up and I’m on edge, watching as cats come and go, hoping at each sign of movement that it will be Silverman making his funny running entrance.

And here he is! 4:54 and he just slipped in the door, following a few feet behind Ms. Kili. I’ll have to go have a serious talk with him about kitty responsibility. And, of course, I’ll pick him up and savor his safe return.