Sniff, sniff went the little cat as he curled up from the edge of the window sill, the cold autumn night air played with his whiskers, as he climbed down the window ever so slowly and delicately as all cats do, placing his black paws upon the blood red velvet pillows of her bed, he heard the door open with a quiet crack. He saw the little black dress he was so fond of, especially when she let him sit on her lap and stroked his silky black mane.
She sat down at her old oak desk and lit the lamp that dimly lighted her eyes. She wrote and wrote in her little black book until her eyes could shed not one tear more.
The little cat said to himself – I am here for you, I will be your friend - . Suddenly, Emily turned her eyes and looked at him, she picked him up with her small cold hands and sat him on her lap.
It was as if she had listened to his words, even though, we all know little cats can not speak...