(a short piece written after coming across a Beatles’ song of this title. It apparently appeared on their Abbey Road album)
Of that there’s no doubt. The latch swung free, grating in the wind on the paint-flaking frame. Everywhere else had been securely locked. Like it always is. I’d been cooped up in the house for two days. I had to get out. And she saw the chance. To get in, carry out as much damage as she could. And get out before I returned. The timing was immaculate. Uncanny in fact. The first clue had been the bathroom door slightly ajar. I knew I’d shut it earlier. It put me on my guard at once. My hand flew to my pocket. Ready. Ready for any surprise. Any movement. I’d worked my way through the bedrooms. One by one. Cautious. Listening. Looking. Little clues gave away her trail. Something moved here. Something disturbed there. Every door was opened expecting a fright. A collision of minds and bodies. She wasn’t here. Not upstairs. The stairs creaked as I made my way down. No way to make my entrance a surprise. I just had to be prepared. My hand loitered inside my pocket. My fingers gripping tightly. The hallway mat was crooked. I’d missed that on the way in. Or had it happened since I went upstairs? I froze. Listened. Nothing. Perhaps I just missed it. The kitchen door was an inch open. The lock never worked properly. I peeped through the crack between the frame. No shadows gave away any body. I took a breath. Swept the door back in one flurry and stood still. The fridge hummed. Nothing else. The drawers all appeared closed. The cupboard doors shut. Strange. I’d expected some evidence of a search here. What was she looking for? I spun around. Lounge or dining room? I chose the latter. Nothing of concern to her lay in there. It was empty. But was the vase of flowers on the bureau turned forty-five degrees? Had she looked there? But why? The lounge door was wide open. As always. I had no cover. No wooden frame to hide behind. It would have to be all or nothing. Most of the room lay to the right of the doorway. I rushed in. Spun to my right. My hand shot out from my pocket. And there she was. Laid out cool on the sofa. Eyes blinking. In command. As always. She sat up as I approached. And purred as I slipped the cat harness over her long-whiskered head.