I always open my eyes few seconds before his alarm goes off.
He reaches drowsily out for the phone, strokes my hair and looks at me with a beaming smile.
He is so gentle!
I stay in bed and listen to him making coffee, having a shower and getting ready to go out. Just before he leaves I cloak his body with mine.
And he laughs.
Then I start counting the seconds, the hours till he walks in again.
I don’t often go out.
Sometimes I go out with friends, but only sometimes. I have nothing to talk about with them. They bore me to death. Some of them are quite fussy and moan about life or talk too much. They are not really my friends.
I’m not very sociable, I guess.
Sometimes I would doze in the sun or look at the sea, sitting blissfully happy under the fig tree.
I never do anything at home.
Once I tried some tidying up and he told me off, so I stopped my pitiful endeavours in household issues.
He likes doing things his way.
I am not allowed to cook, either.
He cooks for me. He serves my breakfast and tea.
I never eat when he’s not at home.
I have no appetite when he’s out.
Basically, what I do is wait.
Sometimes he comes home angry.
I wait at the window.
Whatever happens he would never, ever forget me and would always come back to me.
So I wait.
Sometimes he spends the nights out and I can’t sleep.
And when he comes home he holds me and squeezes me gently in his big arms.
My good girl, he says, I missed you like crazy. Did you miss me, you frog- face?
And he would laugh loudly at his joke.
OK, I’ll make the dinner just because I like you a bit.
And he would laugh again.
Sometimes I’m lonely but I always find something to do.
Sometimes I’m bored.
I want… I have to be beautiful for him.
When it’s cold and rainy I do worry.
But I know he will always come back home to me.
Sometimes we go for a walk. Just the two of us. I love walking with him.
He is so caring.
And when he caresses my body…
I love watching him shave and dress. He is perfect in all details. I love his white T- shirt with that guitar player. I like to watch him dance and I dance with him.
Most cold evenings he stays at home with me, takes me to the coach and I sprawl my whole body next to his and I lay my head on his shoulder.
He strokes my hair.
Sometimes we fall asleep within each other.
Sometimes we watch television. Always together, always one within the other.
I don’t talk much. He likes talking to me.
He talks about the day and the people he meets.
I don’t know many of them.
I know the few who come home.
They are his friends.
His friends love me and always remind me how beautiful I am. I want to be beautiful for his friends.
I love his friends because they make him happy. Or at least look happy.
Or perhaps the brandy makes him look happy.
I never drink.
However, his friends don’t come quite so often.
I give him all he warmth he could possibly need.
And my infinite love and loyalty.
Today I looked at myself in the mirror
I am gorgeous and I have magnificent green eyes.
I walk graciously.
I am his Universe.
The lonely Universe of a lonely man and his cat.
Oh, stupid me! I forgot to introduce myself. I am the Cat!
If I were a woman I would have hurt him. All women have. And he would have hurt me or walked away from me. He has hurt and walked away from many.
I am a black- and- white cat with a black spot on the nose. I used to be homeless when I was a baby.
He found me in front of a bar and took me home when I was only one month old and my sisters and brothers were drowned somewhere down the river.
We have been living happily for many cat years and he will always love me devotedly and passionately because I am his “good girl” who will admire and take his love unconditionally till I run out of …life.