Episode 12 of The Writer.
TW (aka The Writer) woke up to Cat licking his face and meowing.
“No, Cat, I’m not in the mood for playing.”
Cat wasn’t one to give up when she wanted what she wanted, and right then, she wanted food. She meowed an insistent meow.
TW said, “Okay, okay.” Then forced the covers off his body and crawled out of bed. By this time, Cat was in the kitchen, meowing her loudest.
Naked, TW headed to the kitchen, flipped on the light switch, and filled Cat’s food dish. As Cat went after the kibbles, TW stuck her water dish under the faucet and filled it. After setting it down on the kitchen floor beside the tabby’s food bowl, he returned to the bedroom, half awake.
He dropped back onto the bed and pulled the covers over him. Then he snapped awake, sitting up straight in the bed.
“What,” he screamed. How did I get inside and in bed? The last I remember I passed out on the back porch. He searched his mind and couldn’t figure out how he had gotten into his bedroom, taken off his clothes and gone to bed.
He looked over at his digital clock. It read 7:00 a.m. TW slipped on his pajama bottoms and went into the kitchen. Cat rubbed against his foot.
He quickly made himself a cup of coffee, then sat down in his comfy chair in the living room.
A what happened went through his mind. Was I abducted by aliens and taken aboard a space craft and undergone the poking of an examination by extraterrestrials? He felt sore all over as if that was the solution to the missing hours. But TW was a logical man. He wasn’t ready to give into what he believed was some fairy tale.
After three cups of coffee, he decided he had somehow managed to get back into the house, take off his clothes and go to bed. Yes, that’s what I did.
He went to the kitchen door. It was locked. Good. At least, no one got into the house while I was out. But what had caused him to pass out in the first place? And why couldn’t he remember coming back into the house?
He opened the back door and walked out onto the porch. But Cat did not follow him out the way she normally did. That’s unusual.
TW returned to the kitchen and went into the living room. Cat was not there. For the next five minutes, TW searched the house for his cat. Then finally he found her under his bed, hiding.
“Cat, what’s going on?” he said, lying on the floor, looking at her.
He stretched and reached under the bed until he touched her paw. She jumped and scooted away.
“Cat, it’s Daddy. C’mon out.”
Her green eyes stared back at TW, and Cat did not move.