Just Good Friends

This is a story I remember reading as a child. I hope you enjoy my interpretation:

As usual, I wake up early and I gaze at the man who is sleeping next to me. He has such a kind, loving face, even when he sleeps, and I feel deep affection for him. It will be some time before he wakes. I let my mind wander and I remember back to how we met.

We met at a pub called "The Cat and Whistle" which I visited often. I was first attracted to him, not because he was good looking, but because he seemed kind and gentle. Every night, he used to sit at the same table alone and drink his beer and watch people playing darts.

Then one night, a blonde woman came and sat at his table and started talking to him. From then on, each night, they sat together. To be honest, I felt very jealous. Then after 20 days, they had an argument and she went away. I felt extremely happy. The next night, I went straight over to his table and I sat beside him. I fluttered my eyelids and he smiled at me. There was no need to talk. We were just two lonely souls connecting. Spontaneously, he put his out his hand and caressed my cheek. Later that night, it just seemed natural to leave with him. And we have been living together ever since.

We have never spoken about our pasts. And that is a good thing because life was very hard for me before we met. I am one of four and our father deserted us when I was very young. I had two babies of my own, but they were taken away from me. It is a very painful memory.

My attention comes back to the man sleeping next to me. I cannot imagine life without him. Suddenly the alarm goes and he wakes up. I pretend to be asleep and through closed eyelids, I watch him get out of bed. As usual he puts his foot into the wrong slipper and he groans. Then he turns round to me and says "Wake up, lazy bones!" but as usual, I roll over and lie in the warm hollow that his body has left. "I suppose you want me to get you breakfast in bed again, do you!" he says.

He walks out the bedroom and I can hear his footstep as he goes to the kitchen. Then, I can hear the clinks and clanks of him making breakfast. It's time to get up, I think. I leap out of bed and I go to join him in the kitchen. He is at the table, eating cornflakes from a bowl. "Nice of you to join me!" he says. He pushes my bowl over to me and I lap it up happily. It's not true that we cats only swish our tails when angry.