**The Uninvited Cat**
Today, Emily moved into her own flat. And who cared if it was small and on the outskirts of Manchester? The ground floor of the three-storey building was so close to the pavement 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 was just big enough for a counter, a sink cabinet, and a stoolnothing more could possibly fit. A tiny flat, but hers alone.
Emily had bought it with her share of the inheritance from her aunt, who adored her for her easygoing nature and willingness to help no matter what. The sum had only stretched far enough for this placethere hadnt been any better options in the city for the price.
“Lovely little flat, plenty of light, convenient location,” the estate agent had said. “Perfect for one.”
“For one, yes,” Emily had agreed. “But I still need somewhere to put a fridge…”
She spent the whole day scrubbing, dusting, wiping. By evening, everything gleamed, her belongings were neatly arranged, and the kettle whistled on the stove. The wide windowsill held her dishes. Emily circled her new domain again and again, trying to figure out where the fridge could possibly go.
Night fell. Tea was drunk. The fridge remained homeless.
Emily climbed into bed, tucked herself in, and pulled the duvet up to her chin. Outside, crickets chirped, their rhythmic hum lulling 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?
On tiptoes, she crept to the kitchen door and peeked inside.
Her dishes lay 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 stared at her calmly.
“Where did you come from?”
The cat glanced at the window, as if answering.
“Well, go back then!” She flapped her hands at it. In one leap, the cat sailed past her, landed on the bed, and settled in as if it owned the place.
Morning found them like this: Emily in the chair, the cat sprawled across the bed. At six, the uninvited guest stretched, yawned, and left without a backward glance.
The day was spent arranging her new home. Only as evening fell did Emily remember the cat. She stowed the dishes in the cabinet and shut the window, convinced this would keep the furry intruder out.
At exactly three in the morning, scratching came from outside. There he was, perched on the sill, pressing his forehead to the glass, staring down at her with a stern, heavy gaze.
“Fine, stay there,” she muttered, going back to bed.
Morning brought a weight on her legs. Emily opened her eyesthe cat lay across her feet.
“Oh, you!” She swatted at him with a pillow. He yawned and sauntered to the open windowwhich she *knew* shed closed.
The next night, Emily decided to catch him in the act. She turned off the lights, sat by the window, and watched the dim shapes outside. Trees swayed, crickets hummed, her eyelids grew heavy, warmth seeped into her legs…
She woke hours later, still in the chair. The cat purred loudly in her lap.
“Fine. If I cant beat you, Ill join you. Every home needs a man, I suppose.” She gave in.
Now the cat stayed even during the day.
When the fridge finally arrived, Emily still hadnt decided where to put it. The cat solved the problemhe sat in the hallway corner and yowled until she measured the space. Perfect fit.
His new throne became the fridge itself. He slept there, ate there, lived there.
One evening, he acted strangely. He leapt down, circled the fridge, jumped back up, fussed, repeated it allthen finally settled into a sphinx pose, motionless.
“Done?” Emily asked. “Good. Sleep. Me too.”
The cat didnt move.
Later, a howl tore through the night, shattering her dreams.
The cat stood on the fridge, screeching like a siren. Not even an ambulance couldve matched that noise.
“Are you ill?”
He arched his back, howling, ignoring her pleas to stop. Thenflash! Sparks and smoke burst from behind the fridge. The cat bolted to the door, clawing franticallyoutside, the trip switch for the electrics. One flick, and the power was off. She flung open the windows.
“Electrician tomorrow. For nowsleep. Thank you, cat. What would I have done without you?”
By morning, he was gone.
And the next day.
And the one after.
Some said coincidence. Some said her aunt had sent him. Emily knewhed been her guardian angel. No ordinary cat walks into your life so boldly, after all.
