Cat on a hot bin roof

Like most of the people I know, my kitchen sink is in front of a window. Unlike most of the people I know, I have no dishwasher, machine or human, apart from myself. This small fact means that I inevitably spend a certain amount of time looking out of the kitchen window. I sometimes wish I had a view of a pretty garden or trees - but on the other hand one sees a fair slice of life looking out over a back street. There are several cats. This one belongs to the young couple across the road and is an interesting mixture of white, grey and marmalade tabby. It comes and goes from my small yard and lately has taken to sitting on top of my bin. Actually several of the street's bins have a resident cat, sitting atop as though they were statues on their pedestals. I imagine the plastic is drier and warmer than the ground at this time of year, so there is method in it - but I find it quite comical. I do, however, find it rather unnerving to be doing the washing-up whilst subject to an unwavering and hypnotic stare. I wonder what he's thinking? ("Feed me, feed me, woman." Probably.)