We Have Heard the Crimes at Midnight

Last night, I was asleep, as I often am at night, when I was woken by sounds of running, thumping and dropping. I looked at the clock and saw that it was precisely on midnight. I knew who was about such an hour: it was Brazil, playing.

Despite not having a friend to chase and wrestle, Shimmer enjoys his games. He will often leap on a fuzzy mouse, knock it about, then speed away, as if the toy were after him. Then he will return, at a similar velocity, shoot past the mouse and down the corridor, or up a cat-tree. The difference was that this time, he was doing it in the dark, and while I was trying to sleep.

But it didn’t bother me. I enjoyed hearing Brazil have fun as much as he enjoyed having it. I want him to have a companion, someone to play with, but he is a cat who can make his own games, too, and his excitement and activity can reach a height as great as that when playing with a friend. So I listened to him run about, scurry on the uncarpeted floor, bang and scratch against the cat-trees, and generally commit all sorts of crimes and misdemeanours against household serenity at the darkest of hours.

A little later, I fell back asleep. In the morning, Brazil was in the saddle-topped cat-tree in the bedroom, himself just waking. We both had had a good night.