The Uninvited Cat
Today, Emily moved into her very own flat. It didnt matter that it was small and on the outskirts of Birmingham. The ground floor of the three-storey building was so low that stepping out into the yard was as easy as climbing over the windowsill. The twelve-square-metre room held a bed, a double-door wardrobe, a coffee table, and two chairs. The kitchen was just big enough for a table, a cupboard under the sink, a stooland that was it. Nothing more could fit. A tiny flat, but hers.
Emily had bought the place with her inheritance from Aunt Margaret, who had adored her niece for her easygoing nature and willingness to help in any situation. The money had only stretched this farno other flats in the city were within her budget.
«Its a lovely little place, bright and well located,» the estate agent had said. «Perfect for a single tenant.»
«Perfect for one, yes… But I do need to find room for a fridge somewhere…»
All day, Emily scrubbed, dusted, and polished. By evening, everything gleamed, her belongings were neatly arranged, and the kettle hissed on the stove. Her dishes sat on the wide windowsill. Again and again, Emily paced her new domain, trying to figure out where the promised refrigerator might go.
Night fell. Tea was drunk, but the fridges future home remained a mystery.
Emily flopped onto the bed, tugged the duvet over herself, and listened to the crickets chirping outside. Their lullaby wrapped around her, pulling her into sleep…
A crash from the kitchen made her jolt upright. She grabbed her phonethree in the morning. Dark. Still night. Burglars? A ghost? Or just the wind?
She tiptoed to the kitchen door and peered inside.
Her dishes had scattered across the floor. Her favourite mug lay split cleanly in two, and between the halves sat a cat.
An ordinary tabby cat. Only enormous. It stared at Emily with calm, unblinking eyes.
«Where did you come from?»
The cat glanced towards the window, as if answering.
«Then go back!» Emily waved her arms at it. In one effortless leap, the cat bypassed her and landed on the bed, curling up as if it belonged there.
Morning found them together: Emily on the chair, the cat on the bed. At six oclock, the uninvited guest stretched, yawned, and vanished.
The day slipped by in a flurry of unpacking.
By evening, Emily remembered her nocturnal visitor. She stowed the dishes in the cupboard and shut the window, satisfied that this would keep the furry intruder out.
But at exactly three in the morning, rustling sounds came from outside. There he wasthe same cat, perched on the windowsill, pressing his forehead to the glass, watching her with a stern, heavy gaze.
«Stay there, then,» she muttered, turning back to bed.
Morning brought a strange weight on her legs. Emily stretched and opened her eyesthe cat lay draped over her feet.
«Oh, you!» She swung a pillow at him. The cat yawned and sauntered to the open windowwhich she was certain shed closed.
The next night, Emily resolved to stay awake and catch the trespasser. She sat on a chair by the window in the dark, watching the yard. Her eyes adjusted, picking out shapes. Trees swayed, crickets hummed, her eyelids grew heavy, warmth crept into her limbs…
She woke still in the chair, the cat rumbling loudly on her lap.
«Fine. If I cant beat you, Ill join you,» she sighed. «Every home needs a man, I suppose.»
From then on, the cat stayed all day.
When the long-awaited fridge arrived, Emily still hadnt decided where to put it. The cat settled the matterhe sat in the hallway corner and yowled. After measuring, Emily realised it was the perfect spot.
The fridge became the cats kingdom. He slept there, ate there, lived there.
One evening, he grew restless, jumping down, circling the fridge, leaping back up, fidgeting, then freezing in a sphinx-like pose.
«Finally calm?» Emily asked. «Good. Sleep. So will I.»
The cat didnt move.
Then, a bone-chilling howl shattered the night.
The cat sat rigid on his perch, wailinglouder than sirens, sharper than alarms.
«Whats wrong? Are you ill?»
He arched his back, howling, refusing comfort. Then he sprang down, pressing close to Emilyjust as sparks crackled behind the fridge, followed by smoke.
The cat bolted to the door, clawing at itoutside was the fuse box. Emily flicked the switch, cutting the power, and flung open the windows.
«Well call an electrician tomorrow. For now, lets sleep. Thank you, cat. What would I have done without you?»
By morning, he was gone.
He didnt return that evening.
Or the next day.
Some called it coincidence. Some said Aunt Margaret had sent him. But Emily knewhed been her guardian angel. Hed walked into her flat, into her life, as if hed always belonged there.
