I never liked that cat. Ever. My wife dotes on it, calls it silly names, feeds it from the table, I could even argue that she loved it more than me, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that were true.
‘Shhh, little gate, don’t make a sound,’ cackles Jim in a wheezy breath as he creeps along. He breaks out into hushed giggles as he the gate, whispering to it like a truant child.