The Uninvited Cat
Today, Emily moved into her own flat. It didnt matter that it was small or on the outskirts of Manchester. The ground floor of the three-story building was so low that stepping over the windowsill led straight into the courtyard. 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 cabinet under the sink, a stoolnothing more could squeeze in. A tiny place. 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 in any situation. The money had only stretched this farno better options existed in the city for the price.
“Lovely little flat, bright, convenient location,” the estate agent had said. “Perfect for one.”
“For one, yes,” Emily had agreed. “But Ive got to find a spot for a fridge…”
She spent the day scrubbing, dusting, 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 her new domain again, calculating where the fridge might go.
Night fell. Tea was drunk, but the fridges future home remained uncertain.
She climbed into bed, pulled the duvet over herself, and listened to the crickets chirping outside. Their rhythm lulled her to 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?
Tiptoeing to the door, she peeked into the kitchen.
Her dishes lay scattered across the floor, her favourite mug split cleanly in two. Between the halves sat a cat.
An ordinary tabby. Only enormous. It stared back at her, unblinking.
“Where did you come from?”
The cat glanced toward the open window.
“Well, go back!” She waved her arms. The cat leaped past her, landing on the bed, where it settled in as if it belonged.
Morning found them bothEmily on the chair, the cat sprawled across the bed. At six, the uninvited guest stretched, yawned, and vanished.
The day was spent arranging her new home. By evening, she remembered her nocturnal visitor. She stashed the dishes in the cabinet and shut the window, certain this would keep the furry intruder out.
At exactly three a.m., rustling came from outside. The cat perched on the windowsill, pressing its forehead against the glass, its gaze heavy and unyielding.
“Stay there, then,” she muttered, turning back to bed.
Morning brought a weight on her legs. She stretched, opened her eyesthe cat lay across her feet.
“Oh, you!” She swung a pillow. The cat yawned and sauntered to the open window, which shed definitely closed the night before.
The next night, Emily stayed awake, determined to catch the trespasser. She sat by the windowsill in the dark, watching the courtyard. Shadows shifted, branches swayed, crickets droned. Her eyelids grew heavy, her legs warm…
She woke in the chair. The cat purred loudly on her lap.
“Fine. If I cant beat you, Ill tolerate you. Every home needs a man, I suppose,” she sighed.
The cat stayed, day and night.
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 fridge became the cats throne. It slept there, ate there, lived there.
One evening, the cat acted strangely. It paced around the fridge, jumped up, fussed, then settled like a sphinx, utterly still.
“Finally calm?” Emily asked. “Good. Sleep. So will I.”
The cat didnt move.
A deafening howl shattered the night.
The cat sat on its perch, screeching louder than any siren.
“Are you ill?”
It arched its back, howling, refusing comfort. Then it leaped down, darting to the door, scratching franticallyoutside, the circuit breaker. Emily flipped the switch, cutting the power, and flung open the windows.
“Electrician tomorrow. But for nowsleep. Thank you, cat. What would I have done without you?”
By morning, the cat was gone.
It didnt return that evening. Or the next day.
Some called it coincidence. Others said Aunt Margaret had sent it. But Emily knewit had been her guardian angel. That cat had walked into her flat, into her life, as if it had always belonged.
