inside. He immediately jumped up on to the most comfortable
chair and went to sleep. He stayed with us, of course. He loved
both of us and very soon he became my wife's favourite
animal.
But, as the weeks passed, I began to dislike the animal more
and more. I do not know why, but I hated the way he loved me.
Soon, I began to hate him — but I was never unkind to him. Yes, I
was very careful about that. I kept away from him because I
remembered what I did to my poor Pluto. I also hated the animal
because he only had one eye. I noticed this the morning after he
came home with me. Of course, this only made my dear wife
love him more!
But the more I hated the cat, the more he seemed to love
me. He followed me everywhere, getting under my feet all
the time. When I sat down, he always sat under my chair.
Often he tried to jump up on my knees. I wanted to murder
him when he did this, but I did not. I stopped myself
because I remembered Pluto, but also because I was afraid of
the animal.
How can I explain this fear? It was not really a fear of
something evil . . . but then how else can I possibly describe
it? Slowly, this strange fear grew into horror. Yes, horror. If
I tell you why, you will not believe me. You will think I
am mad.
Several times, my wife took the cat and showed me the
white shape on his chest. She said the shape was slowly
changing. For a long time I did not believe her, but slowly,
after many weeks, I began to see that she was right. The
shape was changing. Its sides were becoming straighter and
straighter. It was beginning to look more and more like an
object . . . After a few more weeks, I saw what the shape was.
It was impossible not to see! There, on his front, was the
shape of an object I am almost too afraid to name . . . It