Flash fiction feature: Neighbourhood cat

James had got to know the neighbourhood cat.

He was not a cat person at all. He preferred dogs. But no one can help but watch as a cat strolls through the street as if it owns the place. James had lived in his neighbourhood since birth. He knew all the ins and outs – a true local. So he knew that the cat must have moved in about 4 years ago, since that’s when he first noticed it. It felt like part of the furniture now. James had never petted this cat. He was happy to watch it from afar. Despite this, he felt as though he and the cat recognised each other. They weren’t friendly with each other, however. They simply crossed paths on his dull walk to work when he’d contemplate – daily – where it all went wrong.

Weekends. A habit manifested itself, whereby James would leave the house and see if the cat would show itself. If it did, he’d follow it. This weekend activity turned into a ritual. It was a grey and lifeless use of time, but it was comforting nonetheless. James was not short of friends. He actually had a reliable group of college mates dotted around town. He wasn’t forced into spending time with the cat. But occasionally, he’d be on the way to meet up with people and dismiss the plan en-route. If the cat showed up, walking through the neighbourhood and seeing how far it would take him was always more appealing than socialising. It was meditative.

On one particularly bitter Saturday afternoon, after bailing out of more drinks, he found the cat waiting on his front steps. This was a new level of familiarity. Naturally, he followed where it led. The strange pair reached one of the bridges marking the border between his neighbourhood and the next. James had been over this bridge a hundred times, but had never taken time to appreciate the view from right up against the railing. It was a much better view than the usual glance from the car window. He peered into the murky water below. The cat weaved around his ankles and rubbed its head against James’s leg, the way cats do when they want attention. James obliged. He looked over the bridge once more before heading home. It was an icy, cold day.

The cat had trapped him in his own house. He was a bit scared, and ashamed to be so

In the last remaining weeks of that same winter, James woke almost every day to see the cat sitting outside his house. Remorseless little creature. While he was sure that no cat could ever take hold over any human, it was an amusing thought. But the cat did have an aggressive look about it. And, to his own surprise, James was now wary of it. The cat had trapped him in his own house. He was a bit scared, and ashamed to be so.

***

February. He’d been somewhat of a hermit, with the menacing cat on his doorstep as his excuse. Missing calls from his mother and texts from his best friend. Week after week, their texts came through with the same news flash – you need fresh air! Each was as unhelpful as its predecessor.

***

An early March morning. Spring teased the neighbourhood.

James put his jacket on and decided to brave the air he was allegedly missing so badly. The cat was still outside, lounging on the doorstep as usual. James needed it gone if he was going to enjoy his walk like he used to, before the cat showed up. He found a can of tuna in the back of his cupboard which he tipped into a bowl and softened with a fork. This was more effort than he’d spent on a meal for himself since Christmas time. Finishing the meal with four sachets of rat poison, he opened his front door, dinner in hand.

He put the food down, avoiding eye contact with the neighbourhood cat, and headed in the direction of town. He replied to his mum’s many texts, offering a call during the week. And he texted one of his friends as he walked, asking if they fancied a coffee.