A Cat in Florence

Chapter 12
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You can’t sneak into a room hoping that your cat won’t sense your entry, your presence. I mean, forget about it.

There was no sign of Jenny when I entered the room. The window was still open, the way I’d left it, and the curtain was swaying gently in the breeze.

I had one arm out of my shirt when Jenny appeared from under the bed and stretched casually. “Where have you been?” she said.

“Uh, just walking.”

“Until two in the morning?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said, heading for the bathroom.

I closed the door behind me as I entered the bathroom and heard Jenny say, “Hey!”

“Give me a minute,” I said.

I used the toilet, quickly stripped, and got in the shower. I scrubbed everywhere very vigorously, including places where scrubbing vigorously was a bit uncomfortable. I worked quickly.

After I got through and dried off, I rubbed some of the complimentary moisturizing lotion on here and there, especially there. I stood at the sink and combed my hair, and then just stood there staring at my face staring back at me, guilt written all over it.

When I opened the door, Jenny was sitting in front of it with her tail wrapped around her haunches staring at the wall. “Sorry to take so long, but I felt all sweaty and grimy, and needed a quick shower.” Too much explaining, I thought.

Jenny didn’t say anything, and I started towards the bed. As I did I saw her pad into the bathroom and head right for my clothes, which lay crumbled on the floor where I’d left them. “Oh, no,” I whispered, involuntarily.