Raining Cats (Wettbewerbsbeitrag zur Ruth Rendell Short Story Competition 2022)

"Did you buy the cat food?"

Her husband did not reply. Instead, he turned the page to the local news. Another break-in in their neighbourhood, this time into a souvenir shop. The thieves had stolen plush animals. "What on earth for?," he mumbled, sitting at the table still in his pajamas.

His wife became impatient. "Kindly put the newspaper away," she demanded in an imperious tone. "Cosmo has to have his lunch."

The huge gray Norwegian cat lay stretched out on his artificial tree and stared out of the window. Nothing remarkable happened in the street below. Nothing remarkable ever happend in his life, which was limited to three tiny rooms in this dreary Edinburgh flat.

The man lowered the newspaper and shrugged. "Cat food was out at Murphy's. I will buy it sometime later."

Furiously, she started polishing the top of the stove. You never could rely on him. He had been sitting at home ever since he retired. Always reading, always whining. The lockdown during the past months had been nerve-wracking. He had been expecting her to endure his moods and petty complaints all day. He had not accomplished the simplest of tasks on his own. Like buying the cat food.

Poor Cosmo. Her eyes softened. She looked at the animal, who blinked back lazily, his left forepaw twitching. Maybe he was chasing an imaginary mouse. The confinement and lack of entertainment were depressing even him.

"This series of thefts is scary," the man said. "For the fourth time in the last two weeks a shop in the area got robbed. The thieves always take small things only. At Tesco, they stole canned sardines, then cheap wool scarves at the Mill and nail scissors in Rag & Bone's. Now, plush toys - of all things! I wonder what mastermind is behind this business."

She took a tea towel from the rail and started drying the breakfast mugs. "Maybe they pinched all Murphy's cat food, too?" she asked acidly. "When are you finally going to do the shopping?"

"Your darned beast is ways too spoiled. It will survive half a day without getting stuffed." He rustled with the paper. "Perhaps just boyish pranks?" Scratching his nose: "What would one do with stuff like that? Could eat the sardines, I suppose, but what to do with some bloody nail scissors is beyond my understanding."

As was everything else. She put the dry mugs on the shelf and looked pointedly at this hands. "Maybe cut one's nails?" she suggested testily.

"You always nag. What is wrong with my nails? Nobody apart from you sees them anyway." He grunted and got up from his chair. "I have to go to the loo." He shuffled heavily out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

How fed up she was. Having wiped her hands on the towel, she picked up the newspaper from the table where he had thrown it. The report was just a small section. It did not tell much, the facts were simple. The robbers came during the night, broke into the premises through poorly secured doors and only ever took trifles. The cash register and valuables were left untouched. Apparently, a joke. Probably some university student becoming bored during lockdown.

Cosmo was watching her diligently, his yellow eyes half shut. He was waiting for the familiar sound of the can opener. He did little apart from sleeping and eating. Should she get another cat to keep him company? Two cats, though, eat more than one. No mention of all necessary equipment - soft little cushions for them to lie on, and care utensils like brushes and scissors. Pets were demanding, quite rightly. She sighed. Veterinary bills, on top of it, generally amounted to enormous sums. Since her husband's retirement, money flowed in sparesly, just enough to live on. She had begun to save on meat and beer. More reason for his complaining.

There was the sound of water rushing in the bathroom. It always took him ages to get started in the morning, after having slept soundly at night. During the long years of their marriage, she had got used to his snoring, she hardly noticed it anymore. She had bought herself earplugs and a warm blanket for the nights that she spent on the couch in the living room when sleep would not come at all. He never noticed when she was not lying next to him in bed.

Cosmo was another matter. The cat always woke up as soon as she came into the living room. She would then play with him, would tug at his fluffy ears and throw him plush mice that he obediently fetched and brought back to her. These nocturnal hours belonged entirely to the two of them.

She was wondering what it would be like if she had more of such agreeable company. Cats - soft, silent and contented creatures. If she got one or two more... The tiny flat would become tight. On the other hand, she had seen an advert on the last page of the paper. Kitten giveaway. Maybe she should get in touch with the advertiser today. She could bring the sweet little things home before Christmas.

But first things first. Cosmo was entitled to his lunch now. She crossed the room and quietly opened the sideboard drawer. The water was still rushing in the bathroom, no danger from there. She took out one of the cans of sardines and poured the contents into the bowl. Cosmo, gifted with the sixth sense of his kind, had already climbed down from his cat tree and was waiting for his favourite food. Where he got it from, he would never tell. And anyway, who knew what animals were thinking?

She threw the empty can into the garbage bin. Her husband would not notice. In tomorrow's newspaper, he would read about a break-in at a pharmacy nearby and the theft of deadly drugs of some kind. She would get him a beer for a treat and even serve it to him. He would swallow it without qualms and be none the wiser.