The Uninvited Cat
Today, Emily moved into her own flat. It didnt matter that it was tiny and on the outskirts of town. 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 barely fit a table, a cupboard under the sink, a stooland that was it. Nothing more could squeeze in. A little flat. But it was hers.
Emily had bought it with her share of the inheritance from her aunt, who had adored her niece for her easygoing nature and willingness to help in any situation. The money had only stretched to this placethere were no other options in town for the price.
«Its a lovely flat,» the estate agent had said. «Bright, convenient location. Perfect for one.»
«For one, yes,» Emily agreed. «But I do need to find a spot for the fridge…»
She spent the whole day scrubbing, cleaning, wiping. By evening, everything gleamed, her belongings were neatly arranged, and the kettle hummed on the stove. The wide windowsill held her dishes. Emily paced the flat again, calculating where the fridge might fit.
Night fell. Tea was drunk, but the fridge still had no home. Emily climbed onto the bed, pulled 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 jolted her awake. She grabbed her phonethree in the morning. Dark. Nighttime. Burglars? A ghost? The wind? On tiptoes, she crept to the kitchen door and peered inside.
The dishes from the windowsill were scattered across the floor. Her favourite mug had split cleanly in two, and between the halves sat a cat.
An ordinary tabby cat. Only much bigger. Enormous, even. It stared calmly at her.
«Where did you come from?»
The cat glanced toward the window, as if answering.
«Well, go back, then!» She flapped her hands at it. In one leap, the cat bypassed her and landed on the bed, settling in as if it belonged there.
Morning found them togetherEmily on the chair, the cat on the bed. At six, the uninvited guest stretched, yawned, and left.
The day passed in more domestic chores. By evening, Emily remembered the cat. She stowed the dishes in the cupboard and shut the window, convinced this would keep the furry intruder out.
But at exactly three, rustling came from outside. The cat sat on the windowsill, pressing its forehead to the glass, glaring at her with a heavy, unblinking stare.
«Stay there, then,» she muttered and went back to bed.
Morning brought a weight on her legs. Emily stretched and opened her eyesthe cat lay across her feet.
«Oh, you!» She swung a pillow at it. The cat yawned and sauntered to the open windowwhich she was certain shed locked.
The next night, Emily decided to stay awake and catch the trespasser. She turned off the lights, perched on a chair by the window, and watched the darkened yard. Her eyes adjusted, picking out shadows. Trees swayed gently, crickets hummed, her eyelids grew heavy, her legs warmed pleasantly…
She woke still in the chair. The cat lay purring loudly in her lap.
«What am I going to do with you? Fine. If I cant beat you, Ill join you. Every home needs a man, I suppose,» she sighed.
After that, the cat stayed by day, too.
When the long-awaited fridge arrived, Emily still hadnt decided where to put it. The cat solved the problemit sat in the hallway corner and yowled. Measurements confirmed it was the perfect spot.
The cat claimed the fridge as its throne. It slept, ate, groomedlived there, really.
One evening, it acted strangely. It jumped down, circled the fridge, then leaped back up, fidgeting endlessly. Finally, it crouched like a sphinx and went still.
«Calmed down?» Emily asked. «Good. Sleep. Me too.»
The cat didnt move.
A howl shattered the night, tearing Emily from sleep. The cat stood on the fridge, wailinglouder than any ambulance or police siren.
«Whats wrong? Are you ill?»
The cat arched its back, still howling, ignoring her pleas. Suddenly, it leaped down and pressed against her. At the same moment, sparks crackled behind the fridge, smoke curling up. The cat bolted to the door, clawing franticallyoutside, the fuse box waited. Emily flipped the switch, cutting the power, and flung open the windows.
«Well call an electrician tomorrow. For now, lets sleep. Thank you, kitty. Who knows what wouldve happened without you.»
By morning, the cat was gone.
It didnt return that evening. Or the next day.
Some said it was coincidence. Others thought her aunt had sent it. But Emily was sureit had been her guardian angel. That cat had walked into her flat, into her life, with too much purpose to be anything else.
