Peeping Tom?Growing up, I had an attic bedroom, with the roof taking up some of the ceiling. The ceiling, at a gradient, had a large window which opened out at an angle.

We had occasionally discovered cat hairs on the bed and carpet, but we had never caught cats actually chilling in my room. I often wonder if there were nights when I’d go to bed and there was a cat under the bed, perhaps, sharing the room for the night. I hope they were never too disturbed or apprehensive about my presence.

One night at about one a.m., I was sitting on my bed beside the wall, above which – within easy reach – was the window. I was writing, sitting on the bed. I opened the window – it was very warm, the height of summer.

Minutes after opening the window, lost in thought, a black cat’s two front paws landed on my window sill. The cat was now half in, half out of the room, and the green eyes met mine. The cat had been so agile that I had not yet processed what it was, and so quiet moving up the roof that I hadn’t heard the approach. I hopped off the bed in fright, roaring – believing an attack of some kind imminent. Simultaneously – or perhaps reacting to my fright – the cat sprang back out of the window, with a yowl to match my scream.

(I hope the cat was as amused afterwards by the event as I was, but I’ll take the time to apologise here and now if that’s not the case.)

Richard Gibney

You can contact Richard on Twitter using this address: @ragtaggiggagon

 

 

 

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