There was a kitchen. There usually is. Many tales begin in a kitchen. In this particular kitchen was a seated man and a tabby cat; studiously licking it’s paws. The man was middle-aged perhaps? One of those men who never really bothered with life, anyway. Unmarried. You know the line… In fact; he usually went through life in a daze. Certainly he was in one now.

   He’d found a note, stuck to the kitchen table. It was one of those sticky notes. But it was pink and heart-shaped; from one of those pointless stationary packs you get people you don’t know at Christmas from Poundland. What did it say? He blinked and peered closely through thick-rimmed specs at the faded pink note paper. The writing was very small and neat. “It’s me or the dog”. The cat stared at him.

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