Winter Tail
Teresa Leigh Judd
(April, 2013 &More)
A little gray face pressed against the glass, eyes wide and imploring, mouth open in a silent cry.
"Oh, for gosh sakes," Myrna exclaimed. "That cat is back again. I don't think he belongs to anyone. It's raining and windy and the poor thing is shivering on our doorstep. I don't know what to do."
"Myrna! It's not your problem," her husband Bob answered, looking up from his newspaper.
"I know. But look at him. He's pathetic. And it seems like we've had more bad weather this winter than usual. Maybe we should let him in."
"I've seen him and I don't want to let him in. He's a big pain. Always meowing, jumping on things, begging for attention. The last thing we need now that we're retired is another mouth to feed. Ignore him; maybe he'll go away."
"I just feel so sorry for him." Myrna turned away from the glass back door and went into the kitchen to fix breakfast. She looked out the kitchen window and there he was again, jumping and meowing, trying to get high enough to see in. She sighed and turned her back on him.
The rest of the day, as wind and sleet pounded at the house, the little cat, looking more and more sodden, was there, crying at the door every time Myrna glanced that way.
Later that night, Bob and Myrna turned out the lights and headed upstairs to bed. In no time, they were both sound asleep.
Myrna awoke with a start as a small gray body landed with a thump on her chest and a mouth full of sharp teeth meowed loudly in her face. She stifled a scream as she realized that the cat had somehow gotten into their bed.
She nudged Bob awake and whispered. “The cat’s in here.”
“So, put him out.” Bob rolled over, turning his back to her.
“Bob!” Myrna shook him lightly. “The cat’s in the house.”
“I heard you the first time. Put him out.”
“Shhh. Think. How did he get in?”
At that, Bob sat upright. The couple listened intently and they heard a crash from downstairs.
"Quick. Get in the bathroom and take that noisy cat with you. I'll call 911." Bob grabbed the phone as he slipped out of bed. "Keep your head down just in case."
They snuck quietly into the bathroom, locking the door behind them.
"Operator. We think someone's in our house. Downstairs. Please send help right away." Bob gave her the address and the three of them huddled in a corner between the shower and the cabinets. "I'll stay on the line but I don't want to talk for fear they'll hear me."
Myrna held her breath, petting the cat in her lap to keep him calm. She wasn't calm at all, though. She was trembling from fear and with the heat turned off for the night, her flimsy nightgown was little protection against the cold. She shivered and scooted across the hard tile floor closer to Bob.
The room was very dark. Rain drummed on the roof.
The thumps and crashes from below seemed to be louder all the time. The intruder was looking for something or just bent on destruction. They had few assets, not even the latest in televisions or computers. Why in the world would someone break into their modest house? The sounds continued as the person moved from room to room.
Then Myrna's heart stopped, or at least it felt like it. Heavy footsteps could be heard on the staircase.
Bob whispered into the phone. "He's coming upstairs. When will the police be here?"
"They're on their way. Should arrive in the next minute or two."
In the distance, Bob heard the faint blip of a siren and then someone running down the stairs. He sighed in relief.
Moments later, loud voices echoed up the stairwell.
"Police! Let's see your hands. Okay, face down on the floor, hands behind your back."
There was no gunfire so Bob and Myrna assumed that the intruder had complied, but they didn't venture out until they heard reassuring words coming from below.
"Sir? Are you all right up there?" one of the policemen shouted.
"We are now that you're here," Bob shouted back. He and Myrna got up and opened the bathroom door, peering out carefully. The room was still dark, but the hall light clicked on and a uniformed policeman appeared in the doorway.
"We got the guy. He's just some kid, looking for something to steal. Unfortunately, he did a bit of damage including breaking the glass in the back door. We'll be taking him back to the station now. I have a few questions for you, and then you can come in and make a full report tomorrow."
Struggling into their robes, Bob and Myrna descended the stairs warily. The cat, thinking this was all good fun, wove back and forth in between their legs, making the descent precarious. In spite of all the noise, not much was broken. The young man had pulled out drawers and knocked over furniture, but that seemed to be the extent of it. It had sounded a lot worse than it was.
The police led the handcuffed culprit out the door. After depositing him in the patrol car, the officer came back to ask a few more questions.
No. They'd never seen him before. No, they didn't know why he had targeted their house. No, they weren't hurt. The cat had wakened them and they had time to hide.
The policeman flipped his notebook closed. "I'd recommend that you get some sort of alarm system installed. I don't think you can depend on the cat to protect you in the future."
Bob laughed. “I agree. We’ll see to it right away.”
After the police left, Myrna began sweeping up the broken glass and Bob boarded up the glass door. They headed back up to bed, but it was a long time before they went back to sleep. The cat, on the other hand, curled up at the end of the bed and was asleep in minutes.
* * *
A week later, the house back in shape, the couple was slouched on their sofa in front of the fireplace, warming their toes. On the floor, the cat sat by the fire as if he had always lived there.
“You know that cat isn't all bad,” Bob admitted. “Now that he’s made himself comfortable here, he’s not nearly as noisy and annoying.”
“All he wanted was to be with us. And thank goodness he did. Who knows what would have happened if he didn't wake me up? I think, I’ll name him Angel. He certainly was one the other night. What do you think cat? Are you an angel?”
At the word “angel,” the cat looked up and meowed.
Myrna smiled and leaned over to pet him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Teresa Leigh Judd resides in the northern California foothills and has only recently begun writing short stories. She is a member of the Sacramento chapter of Sisters in Crime and will have a story in their upcoming anthology, The Best of Capital Crimes. You can find more of her stories described on her website: