Lannor didn’t know what to make of Tyler. Housework was the one thing he never thought he’d see another male do. Not even Lannor had ever had to do such menial tasks in all his time living in the house. There was no point following Tyler around if housework was all he would do for the day. Instead, Lannor returned upstairs to the library, where he hoped he might have time transform and perhaps read. Lannor had been a feline for so too long the desire to be in his human form grew stronger the longer Tyler remained.

Lannor missed being human. Missed talking and being in contact with others. But it also brought back the bitter feeling of who he was and where he was. It was these feelings he avoided by being feline, however with Tyler there perhaps he could change that. The possibility of having a friend still dwelled on the forefront of Lannor’s mind. Still considered a foolish idea, he needed more time to ponder the notion.

Until such a time as when or if Lannor revealed himself, he would watch and wait. There was no hurry; time was on his side.

When Tyler returned to the wash trough in the laundry, he discovered the water a dirty grey. Using the dishwashing liquid, it took two decent washes to get the linen cleaned. Both times the water ended up cloudy and exhausted Tyler decided they were clean enough. His shirt and torso already wet, Tyler carried the linen to the clothesline and hung them beside the blankets. One blanket, blown off and draped over the tall grass, bothered Tyler. Tentatively he stepped through the grass hoping no nasties lurked within before reaching out and snatching the blanket.

A quick sniff of the blanket told Tyler the stale odour still lingered and so he hung it back over the line. There was hope the weather would air them out enough to take away the musty smell. The trees did nothing to stop to cold westerly winds cut through the backyard and given his wet clothes a chill fell over him. On his return to the house, and not until Tyler was in the bedroom did it occur to him he had not seen the cat for some time. Yet, no sooner had he thought this the cat appeared in the doorway.

“There you are?” Tyler said as he removed his pants and top, hanging them on the coat stand to dry. Dry jeans, white t-shirt and black windcheater replaced the damp clothes.

“Knew you weren’t far.” Tyler remarked. The cat sat still in the doorway, tail wrapped around its front paws, his eyes on Tyler. Attentive of the cat and its behaviour Tyler once more eyed it with suspicion.

“I’m going to make myself a sandwich, them clean this room.” Tyler slowly mentioned, “Will you be joining me downstairs?”

There was a pause, in which Tyler’s question was now a test to see how the cat responded. Momentarily, Tyler thought the cat would remain where it was, before it stood, turned and made its way back through the hall. Tyler walked to the doorway and watched the cat walk down the stairs. Unsure if the cat’s destination was the kitchen, Tyler followed behind. At the bottom of the stairs the cat turned towards the kitchen and when Tyler entered, he was once more on the counter by the window.

Tyler eyed the cat as he made them lunch. Its odd nature intrigued him. Once they were both fed, Tyler returned to the bedroom and waited a moment to see if the cat appeared. He even stuck his head out the bedroom door to see if he’d had followed but there was no sign of him. Perhaps the cleaning cloth and spray in his hands when leaving the kitchen deterred the cat from following but was he giving him too much credit. However, the cat’s unusual behaviour continued to bother Tyler.

With a sigh, Tyler returned to the task at hand. Dust remained the main issue within the bedroom and all other rooms but the small library. Why not the library puzzled Tyler, but he put it out of mind to focus on the bedroom? The windows were dirtier than Tyler imagined and several cloths were needed. Once clean he manoeuvred them open to air the room out. The underside of mantle covered in soot was impossible to clean and Tyler gave up trying. It took over an hour to clean the narrow grooves carved into the ornate bedhead and Tyler wished he’d never started.

By mid afternoon, Tyler stood in the doorway of the bedroom, hands on hips, inspecting his handy work.

“Not bad.”

The only thing left was the old, tattered rug by the fireplace. Tyler glanced towards the door and the cat came to mind. Tyler suspected there’d be no chance of throwing out the rug without an angry cat on his hands. Instead, Tyler picked up the mat, heavy with years of dirt and took it outside.

On the front porch, Tyler draped the rug over the handrail to the side, and proceeded to look for something to beat it with. The front yard was in a severe condition as the backyard if not worse. Hidden behind overgrown grass, rose bushes grew uncontrolled and wild. In the past Tyler suspected the yard was pristine and well loved. Now, the gravel paths were swallowed by overgrown shrubs. Tyler ventured further down the drive until he found a large stick, fallen from one of the many trees, which would do the job.

Back on the porch, Tyler wasn’t sure if he should be surprised to see the cat sitting in the doorway.

“Hello there?” Tyler said. The cat remained still, staring at Tyler as though judging him.

“Are there any cats in the afterlife?” Tyler murmured to himself as he racked his memories for folklores he may have learned during school. None came to mind.

With stick in hand, Tyler tentatively approached the rug and before hitting it, turned to the cat once more, and said, “I’m only going to clean it.”

“As best I can.” Tyler murmured as he turned back.

The first strike of the rug had Tyler raise his free hand over his face as he deflected the debris. The first few strokes were an attempt to clean it but as Tyler found his pressure around the stick harden; emotions he’d been ignoring grew. Every new stroke became harder and more aggressive as Tyler found his anger taking over. Perspiration formed and Tyler welcomed the discomfort, almost wanting pain to be present. The harder he beat the rug the angrier he grew. How dare they treat him this way? How dare they toss him to one side?

Tyler pounded every hurtful thought into the rug until pain forced him to stop. With the stick clutched in both hands, Tyler panted, staring down at the splintered remnants. Then his eyes travelled towards the pain and the black cat sitting beside him, paw outstretched, claws piecing the fabric of his jeans.

“Ouch.” Tyler said as an afterthought.

The cat retracted its claws then raised his head to stare at Tyler. A shiver ran down Tyler’s spine and the wind picked up making him feel cold all over. Tyler’s breathing slowed, and he lowered the stick. As he did, his eyes left the cats and made towards the rug.

“Oh.” Tyler exclaimed. The rug hung limply over the rail, small pieces of wood scattered over it. The one side Tyler had beaten looked further threadbare and dishevelled. Tyler leaned the stick up against the wall, turned the rug around and this time focused on cleaning the rug, rather than killing it.

When the afternoon turned colder, the clouds growing thicker and the threat of rain once more returned, Tyler removed the rug from the rail. The cat had once more vanished much to Tyler’s relief. The sense there was something unusual about the cat continued to bother Tyler. With the now lighter rug draped over his arms, he carried it inside. At the doorway, he paused and tilted his head, eyes scanning the entrance to see if the cat was present. He wasn’t, and Tyler released the breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

It’s only a cat, Tyler told himself, nothing to be afraid off.

Yet Tyler remained wary.

Inside, Tyler made towards the stair with the rug when a hiss came from towards the kitchen. Tyler froze, and then looked over the handrail, fearful at the reason behind the disturbance. The cat wasn’t near the kitchen but standing inside the laundry. A sudden realisation came to him, “The linen!”

Tyler dropped the rug at the foot of the stairs and rushed towards the back door, jumping over the cat as he did. Without a backwards glance to see if the cat remained, Tyler made to the clothesline and removed the linen. One blanket had once more blown from the line and tempted to leave it, Tyler didn’t. At great attempts to ignore the threat of danger; Tyler drove into the tall grass, whipped the blanket up with the others over his shoulder and quickly returned inside.

Tyler leaned against the backdoor as the slow patter of rain outside hit the side of the house. Inside, Tyler listened to the eerie silence and once more a sense of peculiarity returned. Tyler stared down towards the front door, the cat once more gone. Tyler returned to the foot of the stairs, the rug lay where he dropped it. He would come back for the rug as he took the bedding upstairs and deposited it on the bed.

It was then Tyler spied the perfect circle of dirt never cleaned from beneath the rug before. With a sigh, Tyler knew he would need to clean it before he could replace the rug. The floor could do with a sweep and mop but without the tools to do so, Tyler used the dustpan and brush and another of his washcloths.

Tyler found the dirt proved more stubborn to move. Even after he soaked it with water, it took the last of his washcloths to scrub the spot. By the time Tyler finished, he sat back on his heels, perspiration running down his back but pleased with his endeavours. The floor now looked cleaner than any other part of the room. As Tyler took the time to admire his hard work, the wind tossed the drapes against the window frames with an erratic motion. It was only then did Tyler notice the steady sound of rain outside and the howling of the wind down the drive. A chill went through Tyler and he realised the room had grown cold. Tyler closed both windows, locking them in place to deter them from rattling. He then started the fire to warm the room. As the fire grew, he crouched before it watching the flames and relished the warmth. The sudden appearance of the cat beside him scared him for the second time that day.

“Will you stop sneaking up on me?” Tyler growled.

The cat glanced up at Tyler as though he had done no such thing.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

The cat turned and walked towards the place his mat should be. As he sat beside the still damp floor, the cat stared at Tyler.

“Yes. I know. Your mat is still downstairs. I couldn’t return it until I’d cleaned the floor. It was terrible. I’ll get it for you now.”

Tyler returned downstairs, the rooms darker now and Tyler turned on the foyer light. Two of the three globes in the light set worked, leaving one side of the hall darker than the other. It was something, Tyler thought.

The rug still lay where Tyler left it and retrieving it, he returned it to the bedroom. The cat had not moved and Tyler lay it back down, the floor dry enough for it. With it back in place, the cat circled around the centre and settled down to sleep in front of the fire.

“Don’t work too hard?” Tyler suggested.

There was no response from the cat, much to Tyler’s surprise; he’d almost expected him to hiss. While the cat slept, Tyler made the bed and when done, couldn’t help fall back against the mattress arm outstretched as he stared at the ceiling. His achievement that day made Tyler proud, and it was only then did Tyler’s memories return. Sadness overcame him and he rubbed his eyes fighting the desire to cry.

It will be fine, Tyler thought.

Eyes weary, body tried, Tyler lay listening to the rain, as the room grew darker.