The Cats in the Room

When Daniel first came to Elara’s apartment, her two cats accepted him with the solemn curiosity of tiny, furred inspectors. They circled his ankles, blinked at him from the sofa, and settled into the corners of the room as if they had always belonged there.

Elara thought nothing of it until the evening grew warmer and the two of them began undressing with the easy confidence of people who trusted each other. Just as things were turning intimate, Daniel froze.

He glanced toward the doorway, then toward the cats, who were perched on the bed like judges.

“Could you take them out?” he asked quietly. “I can’t do this with them watching.”

Elara laughed at first, assuming he was teasing, but his face had gone pale with real discomfort. She carried the cats into the hallway and shut the door. Only then did Daniel relax enough to continue.

Later, when they headed for the bathroom, the same unease returned. He muttered that being seen naked by the cats made him feel ill, as though their gaze carried some strange and humiliating power. When Elara pressed him about it, he only shook his head and said he had always hated the feeling of being watched by animals.

Elara was baffled. She loved him, but she also loved her cats, and the whole thing seemed absurd. For a while, she worried the problem might be bigger than either of them.

Then she chose honesty over confusion. She told Daniel that she would gladly keep the cats out of the bedroom during sex, but she could not promise they would never see him naked, because they all lived in the same home.

Daniel stared at her, surprised, then softened.

He admitted he had never lived with cats before. To him, her words made perfect sense. He had been embarrassed, but not offended. He would try to get used to it.

And so he did.

A few nights later, Elara suggested they watch a football match together. Daniel was a devoted supporter of the Dutch team, and the game had him pacing the living room with nervous excitement. They started out in their underwear, the apartment lit by the blue glow of the television while one of the cats batted lazily at a cushion on the floor.

Then the Netherlands scored their third goal.

Elara grinned, stood up, and removed both their last layers of clothing as if it were part of the celebration. Daniel made a startled sound, then laughed despite himself. For the rest of the match, they sat naked on the sofa while a cat purred nearby, as calm and unimpressed as a priest hearing confession.

Daniel never once complained. By the final whistle, he was flushed with joy, cheering like a child, and had completely forgotten that the cat was there at all.

Elara watched him and felt the last of her confusion melt away.

Maybe fear, she decided, could be trained out of a person one football match at a time.