The Uninvited Cat
Tonight, Emily moved into her own flat. Never mind that it was tiny and on the outskirts of Manchester. The ground floor of the three-storey house was so close to the ground that she could step right into the yard from the windowsill. The twelve-square-metre room held a bed, a 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 snug little flat. But it was hers.
Emily had bought it with her inheritance from Aunt Margaret, who had adored her niece for her easygoing nature and willingness to help. The sum was just enough for this place. There were no better options for the price in the whole city.
“It’s a lovely flat, bright and well-situated,” the estate agent had said. “Perfect for one.”
“For one, yes,” Emily had agreed. “But Ill need to find a spot for a fridge”
She spent the whole day scrubbing, dusting, wiping. By evening, everything gleamed, her belongings were arranged, and the kettle hummed on the stove. The wide windowsill doubled as a dish rack. Over and over, Emily paced her tiny kingdom, trying to figure out where the fridge could go.
Night fell. Tea was drunk. The fridges future home remained a mystery.
Emily climbed into bed, tugged the duvet up, and closed her eyes. Beyond the open window, crickets chirped. 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. Still night. Burglars? A ghost? Or just the wind?
On tiptoes, she crept to the kitchen door and peered inside.
The dishes had leapt from the windowsill and scattered across the floor. Her favourite mug had split cleanly in two, and between the halves sat a cat.
An ordinary tabby. Only enormous. It gazed at her, unblinking.
“Where did you come from?”
The cat glanced at the window, as if answering.
“Well, go back!” Emily waved her arms. In one fluid motion, the cat bypassed her, landed on the bed, and settled in.
Morning found them bothEmily in the chair, the cat sprawled across the mattress. At six, the uninvited guest stretched, yawned, and left.
The day passed in more unpacking and arranging.
By evening, Emily remembered the cat. She stashed the dishes in the cupboard and shut the window, certain this would keep the furry intruder out.
But at exactly three, rustling came from outside. There he was, perched on the windowsill, pressing his forehead to the glass, staring at her with a heavy, unreadable gaze.
“Stay there, then,” she muttered, turning away.
Morning brought a weight on her legs. Emily opened her eyesthe cat lay curled on her feet.
“You!” She grabbed a pillow. The cat yawned and sauntered to the open window, which she had definitely locked the night before.
The next night, Emily stayed awake to catch the trespasser. She sat by the windowsill, watching the dim shapes outside. Trees swayed. Crickets droned. Her eyelids grew heavy, her legs warm
She woke in the chair. The cat purred loudly in her lap.
“Fine. If I cant beat you, Ill surrender. Every home needs a man, I suppose.”
From then on, the cat stayed all day.
When the fridge finally arrived, Emily still hadnt decided where to put it. The cat solved ithe sat in the hallway corner and yowled. Measurements confirmed it was the perfect spot.
The fridge became his domain. He slept there, ate there, lived there.
One evening, he acted strangelyjumping down, circling the fridge, leaping back up, fussing, settling into a sphinx-like pose, rigid and still.
“Had enough?” Emily asked. “Good. Sleep.”
The cat didnt move.
A howl shattered the night, tearing Emily from sleep.
The cat stood on his perch, wailingno ambulance siren could match it.
“Whats wrong? Are you ill?”
He arched his back, howling louder, refusing to be soothed. Suddenly, he leapt down and pressed against her leg. At the same moment, sparks crackled behind the fridge, smoke curling into the air. The cat bolted to the door, claws scrapingoutside, the circuit breaker waited. Emily flipped the switch, killing the power, then flung open the windows.
“Well call an electrician tomorrow. Lets sleep. Thank you, kitty. What would I have done without you?”
By morning, the cat was gone.
He didnt return that evening. Or the next day.
Some said it was coincidence. Others thought 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.
