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A Peculiar November Afternoon

Can we keep him? Please, please.

Here's How it Started

It was a very average, yet oddly warm, run-of-the-mill November Monday. I was perched on the edge of my very tatty computer chair, idly getting on with my rather important university dissertation, when something rather peculiar happened to me.

As I was popping the final full stop onto the end of an admittedly poorly written paragraph, I suddenly found myself in a wave of confusing, and slightly disorientating, bewilderment. What seemed to appear out of absolutely nowhere, were these two yellow eyes, staring into what felt like my soul. It took me a second to realize that surrounding these eyes were a little nose and mouth, several long silver whiskers, and two very pointy black ears.

The Event

Now if you're still confused and haven't put two and two together yet, no, I wasn't being attacked by Morgan Freeman in my own home, as mind blowing as that would be given I'm a 20-year-old girl who was minding her own business in her little bedroom in England. I had very unexpectedly been greeted by a lovely little black cat. See, I don't own a cat, so you can imagine my surprise when I found one sitting right in front of me on my desk. This cheeky little thing had jumped through my bedroom window and sat itself on my keyboard.

Just an FYI, this wasn't a super cat. At least, I don't think so. It didn't just fling itself up to the first floor of my house, which I have to say would be incredibly impressive. You see, I'm burdened with a glorious downstairs bedroom — a bedroom that is right next to the kitchen and the living room, a bedroom with paper thin walls, a broken radiator, and a mirror that falls off the wall biweekly. The wonders of student houses, am I right? Anyway, I digress. So this cat must have been having a little wander through my garden when he saw my open window and thought to himself, "You know what? I'm going to jump through this window. This stranger's window. This window that's attached to a house that I don't live in." 

A Dog Person

I very much consider myself to be a dog person. I adore dogs, I'm lucky enough to have my own little precious Spaniel, and she is the sweetest damn thing you could ever meet. I'm also, however, unlucky in the sense that I don't get to see my dog for about seven to eight months of the year due to the fact I chose to go to a university that is very far away from my home; and for some unforgiving reason, landlords in this bloody place won't allow dogs in their houses. This leaves me in a real predicament, as I find myself in serious puppy withdrawal at all hours of the day. 

Back to It

So there I am, staring dazed into the eyes of this feline that had just appeared in front of me. Now, I'm not really sure what you're supposed to do with cats. I'm not really sure how they work. They've always seemed to me like they know too much, and there's a small part of me that's pretty sure they are either a) from space, b) actually humans that have shape shifted, or c) robots created by the government to spy on us. A little dramatic, maybe, but you can never be too careful these days.

After a moment, this little fella started wandering around my room, conducting his own little investigation, smelling everything and poking his head where it didn't belong. I, still shocked, continued to sit in my computer chair and watch him. It wasn't until he jumped onto my freshly washed stripey bed sheets that my brain started working again. I walked over to him, picked him up, popped him on the floor, and reached for my phone to alert my housemates of the situation I was in. It took seconds, literally seconds, before I heard the thuds of feet trampling down the stairs. If you can't tell, a couple of my housemates are big cat people. They're not like giant human-cat hybrids or anything — they just really like cats.

So I proceeded to open my bedroom door and this little black spy wandered into the kitchen like he owned the damn place. This caused my housemate, who had now made her way to the kitchen, to squeal in excitement; something I did not join in with. We spent about an half an hour or so in the kitchen with this cat, watching him explore. We gave him a bit of food and opened the door so he could go on his way, but the little guy didn't want to leave.

At this point, my mind is racing. What is going on? Why did this cat jump through my window? Why doesn't he want to go? Why do I now not want him to go? In this short half an hour or so time period, I had grown quite fond of this cat. Yes me, the woman who thinks that cats might be spying on us. So, needing to complete some work, I walked back into my room, only to be followed by the little black shapeshifter. I sat back down, cautiously watching him conduct another investigation around my room. A couple of minutes passed before he jumped up onto my windowsill, right in front of my desk, sat himself down, and just gazed curiously out of the window. This I didn't see to be much of an issue, so I left him there and carried on with my work. About ten minutes passed before he was on the move again. He wasn't making his way outside, though. Oh no, he made his way onto the bottom corner of my bed, where he decided he was going to curl up and go to sleep. Again, I didn't see an issue with this, and as I watched him nod off I found myself growing fond of this little feline. 

About an hour and a half passed before he began to stir. Now well-rested and having realized he wasn't getting any more food, he decided it was time to leave. He jumped up onto my desk, sauntered past me, and hopped back on out of the window. I have to admit, I was a little sad when he left. but alas, I bid him farewell and shut my window. 

The Next Day

The day after, I go about my day as usual — went to uni, did my grocery shopping, watched some TV, and lounged about for a while before finally giving up on my procrastination and going back to my room to do some work before bed. I hadn't been there very long before out of the corner of my eye I saw these two little black triangles sticking up above my window sill. I stood up to find that my little feline friend had come back to see me again. I opened my window and he promptly jumped in, landed on my desk, and asked to be stroked. I obliged and we ended up following the same routine as we had the day prior.

This, it seemed, had become more of a routine for this cat than I had intended, as he just kept coming back to my house, staying longer and longer each time because he didn't seem to want to leave. It appeared that I had accidentally adopted a cat — a cat, however, that was very well groomed, had a collar on, and clearly belonged to someone who was not me. Oops? 


It's been about a week and a half, and the cat, who I have now called Casper, has continued to show up at my house. In an attempt to get him to go back to his own home, we have stopped feeding him. However, other than being mildly annoyed, he doesn't seem to care.

We had a real shock today. After ordering pizza and watching a movie with my housemates, I got up to go get myself a drink, just to open the living room door to find Casper sitting there, in my hallway, seemingly waiting for me. Why is this a shock? Well, no one let him in, and all the windows and doors have been shut. I have absolutely no idea at all how he got into my house. I am absolutely baffled, I really am, and if I'm being quite honest, all that suspicion I had that he might be a spy/alien that had begun to disappear, has come fleeting back.

My guard is back up and I have my eye on you now, Casper, my unintentional pet cat who might be recording my every move. I have my eye on you...

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A Peculiar November Afternoon
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