She watched him for twelve minutes. Twelve. Long enough to conclude that he was either incompetent or dangerous. Possibly both. He arrived carrying a box of metal objects, entered without proper tribute, and immediately opened the forbidden door. Then, with the confidence of a creature who had never once considered that the floor itself might turn against him, he placed a ladder on the stairs.
She sat at the threshold and reviewed her options. The ankles were obvious. Too obvious, perhaps. A quick pass between his feet while he descended would be effective, but lacked artistry. There was also the ladder: one well-timed leap, one startled human flail, and gravity would take over from there. She wouldn’t even need to touch him. This appealed to her sense of efficiency. Afterwards, she could remain exactly where she was, looking mildly alarmed while everyone agreed it had been a terrible accident.
The man climbed two steps and leaned into the wall. “There we go,” he said, as though he had accomplished something. Her tail flicked once. He had not. He merely made himself taller and less stable. She imagined the sound the ladder would make on the way down. She imagined the silence after. She imagined, with some satisfaction, the solemn expressions of the household as she accepted comfort for having witnessed such a dreadful thing.
Then he looked over his shoulder. “You supervising me?”
She stared at him.
He smiled. “Good. Somebody’s gotta keep me honest.”
This complicated matters. Not because she liked him—goodness no—she did not. But acknowledgement of rank carried certain obligations. A supervisor could not simply murder a subordinate for poor ladder placement, at least not before the first formal warning. There were procedures. Standards. She had not maintained order in this house by behaving impulsively.
So she stayed where she was while he worked, narrowing her eyes whenever he reached for the wrong tool and permitting herself one low, disapproving chirp when he dropped a screw. At last he climbed down, tested the light, and packed his things. The fixture worked. Irritatingly, it worked quite well.
He paused on his way out and gave her a small nod. “Thanks, boss.”
She watched him leave. For now, she decided, he could live. There would almost certainly be another repair someday.
Author’s Note
A friend of mine posted a video of her cat on TikTok as it stared down the stairs at a repairman doing his thing. This sorta played out in my mind, and I just kinda ran with it. I know it’s brief, but I had fun, and I hope you enjoy it!
Photo: westsib on Magnific
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