Tom slumped on his couch with a sigh. Sunlight streamed through the glass door leading to his yard and his pool. His maroon curtains draped heavily and swayed with the breeze, and his eyes drooped with lost sleep. There was nothing to do, nothing to make him want to get up. What could a person do to Sunday? If he had learned anything from dreary weekdays and short weekends it was to enjoy the latter while it lasted. Especially sweet, promising sunlit mornings like this. Soft rays, cloudless skies, dancing trees, angry cat…

Wait. Angry cat?

There it was, a golden tabby. He was very handsome: His whiskers were sharp and his fur was smooth. Only his narrowed eyes and stiff posture could give away his irritation. His tail lashed rhythmically side to side, and his face scrunched up. Tom cocked his head, curious. A soft snarl escaped from the cat. How long had it been here? Why was it so annoyed? Why was it  here of all places? How-

The cat let out a long, impatient yowl. His hair rose slowly and his gaze burned. He started pacing, stopping occasionally to complain and glare at Tom. He strutted with light, prim steps, tail high in the air. Apparently he got tired easily, however, because he sat after a few minutes to idly lick his paws, even though Tom always kept his house spotless. Then at once he turned to glare at the boy again, shrieking indignantly, as if to remind Tom he could do other things at the moment. But Tom could only gap at him. After another moment, he sniffed and walked away, nose in the air, with an air of high importance.

Confused, Tom went to the door. Immediately, the cat changed. He whirled around and let out a sugary purr. All at once his fur was soft and comforting and his tail was casually flicking from side to side. Only his eyes couldn’t change-narrowed slightly and expecting, they were set on Tom, who froze. He didn’t want the cat but he had a burning curiosity to see what the cat would want. Slowly, he inched the door open. The cat raised an eyebrow and waited. Tom pulled a little more, but he was still as a stone. Exasperated, Tom heaved the glass back. Puffing, he watched to see what the creature would do.

The cat looked around suspiciously before slowly trotting in. He yawned as if Tom’s house was not good enough. He padded over to the fireplace and wrinkled his nose. He sniffed the couch and let out a mewl of disgust. “What, house not good enough for you?” Tom burst out. He couldn’t help it; he was pretty proud of his new home and the cat treated it like dirt.

He glanced at Tom and snorted rudely. Then he streaked across the room and out of sight.