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The Cat This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.


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As I walked through the dark, contemplating my day as if it were an intellectual matter, I was approached by a companion. Timidly at first, the creature soon seemed to take a liking to me—although this was probably just a piece of my vanity. It would have taken a liking to anyone who would be foolish enough to take its bait: jet black, slightly puffed fur, dotted with two large emerald eyes that held a somehow comforting pearly-yellow sheen.

I should mention that I never refer to myself as a “cat” person. No, I am a dog person through and through—even after meeting my midnight friend tonight, I cannot say that this has changed. But as I squatted down to scratch the creature’s velvety ears, an admiration for the little beast began to grow inside me.

At first it was a common moment of adoration, as it was, in fact, adorable. As I got to spend those minutes with him, however, he began to challenge me. He pounced and bit (no claws, and only small nips—otherwise I would have abandoned him altogether) whenever I ignored him for a moment. He climbed right into the outgoing mail cupboard, and laughed at me with those now very alert eyes of his. I wasn’t going to close the door on him—he was absolutely certain of this, and I agreed and gently shooed him out (my one advantage was height and a pair of hands. If this were a fair match he would have had his way, box or no box).

Eventually, I had a place to go, and so did he. We respectfully parted ways, and I brought myself back home. I assume that he spent the rest of his night prowling in dark passageways, waiting for a smaller foe than I.



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