The Intruder

It was their wedding night, when they were too exhausted to do little more than sleep; sleep came in a blissfully warm and enfolding cocoon, the new wife fitting snugly into her husband’s body, which was curved protectively around her.  His sleep was broken by an awareness of there being someone other than themselves in the room.  Careful not to disturb his wife, (who was prone to noisy hysterics,) the man disengaged himself from his embrace of her and sat up, slowly and quietly.   

“Who’s there?”  He whispered.  

“Me” came a reply from somewhere near the foot of the bed.  

The Intruder’s voice was quiet and masculine, with a faint edge to it, almost tearful.  The Intruder went on, “I don’t want to be here”  

“What do you mean?” demanded the man, “Look; I don’t particularly want you to be here either.  Ohh!  And just how long have you been there?”  

There was a pause, as if some great calculation was taking place; “Ages,” came the answer.  

“What?  Are you some sort of pervert, some sort of filthy peeping tom?”  The violence in the man’s whisper disturbed his wife, who let out a muffled and sleep filled “Hmufff?”  Rubbing his wife’s back to comfort her the man turned once again to the Intruder, “Go away!”

The Intruder returned to the bathroom from which he had initially emerged.  Letting out a large sigh he once more resumed sitting on the closed seat of the toilet.   Barely a moment had passed when the bathroom door was pushed open and the man came in.  Perching himself on the side of the bath he looked hard at the Intruder.   

“Look, I know that this situation is far from ideal, but just stay put in the bathroom until I can figure out what to do with you.  And don’t pull a stunt like that again; I cannot afford my wife finding out about you……OK?” Despite his hard stare the man’s voice was conciliatory, reasonable.   The Intruders head was lowered, looking at his feet.  He lifted his head to return the man’s stare, “None of this is my fault you know, and your wife already knows about me.”  

It was the man’s turn to sigh as he replied, “Yes, I know she does, but not about our little secret, no one knows, and must never know, about that.  Can’t you see?  This is why I had to bring you on my honeymoon; I couldn’t risk you talking to anyone.”  He reached forward and placing his fingers under the Intruders chin, gently rubbed his cheek with his thumb.

The man firmly closed the bathroom door after exiting; sliding back into bed next to his wife he wondered just how long he could keep his dark secret from her, and from the rest of the world.  This time she had remained asleep throughout the whole encounter, and it had taken at least ten minutes to console and pacify the Intruder.  Next time she might come looking for him,  and catch them both indulging in their secret.  It was true though, the Intruder could take no blame for this.  It was entirely the man’s fault.  The Intruder had not asked to be experimented on, he hadn’t even had a say in, or objected to, the name he was given, 'The Intruder,' although after the medical experiments he was both mentally capable and equipped to both reason and voice his opinions.  The man, not for the first time, felt shame and pangs of guilt over what he had done to the Intruder.  His own problem of what might happen to him, should the secret ever be revealed, would pale into insignificance to what would happen to the Intruder if the world ever discovered there was such a thing as a talking cat!