Her Cat

I couldn’t sleep last night. Instead of tossing this way and that, keeping both me and my girlfriend awake, I got out of bed and went to the front room, thinking that I might lie on the sofa and fall asleep in front of the tv.

When I got there, I saw my girlfriend’s cat, sitting in front of an open book, purring and staring at the pages intently. Although the room was dark, I swear I could see his eyes scanning across the page, devouring every word with the same hunger he had for Felix Gourmet pouches. The sight should have been ridiculous, laughable even, but I could find nothing to laugh at.

I shifted uneasily and a floorboard creaked, causing the cat to turn his head sharply. I said nothing, did nothing, and barely breathed as the cat’s eyes locked on mine.

I almost said something. Then I realised there was nothing to say. The cat looked away and, with one paw, turned to the next page. I backed out of the room softly, heading back to the bedroom. I almost told my girlfriend what I had seen. But I didn’t.

And nor did I sleep.

The next morning, I got up and went to the front room. As I drank the first of many coffees, I looked at the spot where the cat had been sitting and read the now-closed book’s cover.

“Knots & Splices – A Beginner’s Guide.”

I think I’m going to have to break up with her.


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