I was on the phone earlier. I let the dogs out into the yard. I went out into the yard, still on the phone, to herd the dogs back into the house. Not a half hour later, Dudley is back at the back door, beating on it, insisting he had to go out again. I told him he didn't have to go, he just came in. He beat on the door again and looked Urgently into the yard. So I said, "You'd better have to go!" and let him out.
He didn't have to go. He was on a mission. He ran right to Boris, who was standing in the dark yard, all confused because he is not a smart cat and he is an indoor cat. And Dudley herded him into the house, doing a pretty fair impression of a sheepdog. (Boris was doing a fine impression of a sheep. Boris thought bubble: "Whut?")
Boris is now safely back in the house, and not in the scary dark outdoors where there are cats and raccoons and possums and things that would totally kick his wimpy housecat ass. Dudley is the Kitty Rescuer.
Murphy would have left Boris in the yard all night.