april 22, 2026 · raven · 4 min read
the day raven arrived
two years ago this week, a small black cat with green eyes appeared on the steps and refused to leave. she had no name yet. she had no teeth, mostly — old infection, a story i would not understand for another month. she had a way of sitting that made the rest of the room slightly less serious.
she did not look up when i opened the door. she did not run when i stepped over her. she walked in behind me, sat in the middle of the kitchen like she was waiting for somebody to be on time, and let me think about it for a while.
two years on, she is the heaviest cat in the flat. she sleeps wherever the sun is warmest. she watches every new arrival from on top of the bookshelf with the air of a foreman who is not optimistic but will be fair. the website has her name on it because she is the one who made all of the rest of this make sense.
“she walked in behind me, sat in the middle of the kitchen like she was waiting for somebody to be on time.”
if you read all the way to here, thank you. truly. it adds up.
