(Another perspective of Ernest Hemingways "Cat in the rain")
It was raining. A cat was sitting in the rain. As any other cat would do on a rainy evening, it had searched for shelter and found it under one of the green tables owned by the hotel.
Looking inside, someone inside was looking back. She went away. The cats' shelter was slowly proving itself to be ineffective as the rain dripped down through the cracks and crevices between the boards of the table that most other season had held strong, but over time got soft and bug infested. A mere layer of paint had been put over as to make it look nice as always. The owner of the hotel had for some time thought about changing out the tables.
Just as the cat was about to run to find a better shelter, a waiter was sitting with an umbrella, right there in front of the table. The rain had been louder than any of his footsteps.
The cat, that usually was a very good hunter and therefore had well-trained ears, got surprised, but it was like it knew what the waiter wanted to do.