Simplicity, A Cat's Tale
The alarm went off with its usual gusto and Mary trundled, heavy-footed, across the room. She hurdled with athletic ease, straight over the large sleeping cat making her way to the loo. Then, true to form, popped the kettle on and shoved two pieces of toast into the toaster still half asleep. The rescue, who was called Simon due to a previous owner, was a cat with a catalogue of neurosis and allergies whom she adored. He lay sprawled across the shaggy rug over the underfloor heating and, just as he did every morning, miraculously avoided being trodden on by his busy owner. He was used to her now. He trusted her, finally, after the early teething problems where her strange behaviour had put into question all they had learned about cat ladies. He had assumed cat ladies were either virgins or frigid, many were broken-hearted even and, quite often, bookish. Simon loved their books. They were so warm and comfortable to sit on. Unbeknown to his new owner, Simon had had a lot of other owners