Tom

What did the cat know?

600 words

June gripped the cold hand. It had been so hard to watch the light leaving her grandma’s eyes. Before she’d slipped away to a place June prayed was as Granny always imagined it would be, she’d become quite lucid for a few minutes.

“Make sure you look after Tom, dear,” she’d whispered, referring to the ancient tomcat who’d seemed to June to have been around forever—although, according to Granny, he was only twenty-one years old.

June had told her not to worry, that he was in good hands, although in fact she had reason to be a bit wary of him—he’d scratched her far too many times.

So when she next visited Granny’s house to start emptying the house, which was now hers, she tapped on the neighbour’s door to pick up the key. Mrs Grove had lived next door for as long as June remembered, and she’d kindly agreed to look after Tom for a while.

“Thank you so much, Mrs Grove, for caring for Tom.”

“Oh, my dear, your grandmother was such a long-time friend—it was the least I could do.” She touched June’s hand. “How are you, June, getting over the shock?”

“I miss her so much, but as Granny used to say, grief is the price we pay for love.”

“Aye, true enough.” Mrs Grove nodded, her grey curls bouncing. “I’ll fetch Tom for you, love.” She came back with a thin, mangy-looking animal who hissed when he saw June.

“He’s been no trouble at all, but he’s definitely been missing your gran.”

June gathered the bag of bones in her arms and thanked Mrs Grove again before promising to stay for a cup of tea next time.

Turning the key, June opened the front door. The familiar smell of lavender and furniture polish washed over her. She stood, memories swirling around her for a few moments before placing Tom on the floor. He slunk off, probably wondering what June had done with his owner.

She took the bottle of milk out of a grocery bag, along with a few snacks to keep her strength up while she searched the house for anything her grandmother might want her to keep. But first she needed a coffee.


Tom jumped onto the dining table where June sat sorting through her grandmother’s paperwork. Startled, she stood. “Tom! You frightened the life out of me!”

He stared back at her; his one good eye squinting.

“Milk?” she asked him, before pouring a bowl.

It was then she noticed, on top of the breadbox, the old Ouija board her grandmother allowed her play with sometimes when she was young. Granny had used it to teach her the alphabet and numbers. It also had the words NO, YES, and GOODBYE in faded red paint on the board.

“Ha! You kept this old thing, Gran.” June placed it on the table next to the cat’s bowl of milk. “Well, if you’re still hanging around, I could sure use the company.” The planchette on the board quivered. Tom’s hair stood up, his back arched, and he stepped back, spilling the milk.

“Tom!” June hurriedly dabbed the dripping milk from her trousers and mopped the table with a tea towel. Suddenly, the planchette began to move on its own. June watched as it spelled out the words FEED HIM.

“Feed him? But…”

The board hadn’t finished. The next message was HE’S NOT DONE.

June shot back from the table, giving a nervous laugh as she tried to make sense of what was happening. When she looked at the board, Tom sat—his paw resting on the planchette.