Management told me to check it out. Lucky me.

I approached, trying not to breathe too loudly. The inside was a mess—clothes, fast food wrappers, a half-empty bottle of something I didn’t want to identify. But the driver’s seat? Empty.

That’s when I saw the note, taped to the steering wheel: “I’m sorry. Please feed the cat.”

Looked in the back. Sure enough, a skinny orange cat stared back at me, meowing like this was my problem now.

I left the lot, the cat, and the note. Told management the car was gone. Went home and whispered, “Yes, friend. This is fine.”

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5630804&forum_id=2#48314569)