The Cat By The Door

The little brown cat sat there cleaning itself. It was so unassuming you’d almost assume it wasn’t there. My girlfriend and I were visiting Claire, and Claire ignored the little cat. I bent over to make some kitty come here noises. Claire gave me an annoyed look: “what’re you doing?” “I was trying to get your cat’s attention,” “Cat? I don’t own a cat.” I pointed at the small brown cat sitting by the door looking intently at me. Claire glared, “why does everyone think I own a cat? I’ve never owned a cat!” “Well,” I pointed out, “one never really owns a cat; you live with one. Kind of like roommates.”
My girlfriend extricated us from the unpleasant visit, but her look told me that there’d be a heartfelt talk later on about my seeing things again. We returned to our apartment downstairs, and I stopped thinking about it.
Later that evening, I noticed Clancy, the Gray Menace, running about the room, rolling and chasing about, as if he was playing with another cat, but just one people couldn’t see. As I looked away from the otherwise empty room, I thought I caught just the faintest hint of brown streaking across it.

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