Strays

Table of Contents

Angela had always been what you’d call a cat person. The sight of a feline—be it a stray basking in the sun, a neighbor’s tabby perched on a fence, or even a scruffy street cat slinking between trash cans—brought a smile to her face. There was something about them: their grace, their independence, their quiet curiosity about the world.

She lived alone in a small apartment on the third floor of a brick building that overlooked the narrow streets of her neighborhood. Life was simple—work during the day, a bit of reading at night, maybe a show or two on weekends. But her evenings always felt a little incomplete without the soft weight of a purring animal nearby.

One warm afternoon, as Angela sat by her desk finishing some reports, she heard the faint scrape of claws against her windowsill. She turned just in time to see a sleek ginger cat leap gracefully into her apartment through the half-open window. Her heart instantly melted.

“Well, hello there,”

She said softly, rising from her chair. The cat’s fur was a deep, rich orange with faint stripes along its legs and tail. Its green eyes studied her with that calm, unblinking feline gaze. Angela approached slowly, hand outstretched. The cat didn’t run. Instead, it let out a small, questioning mrrp and tilted its head.

“Oh, you’re friendly,”

She cooed, scratching under its chin. She reached for the collar to see if it belonged to someone. A small silver tag dangled from it, engraved with a single word: Mat.

“Mat,”

She repeated, smiling.

“Well, you’re a handsome boy, aren’t you?”

In her excitement, she barely registered the small, square-shaped object attached to the collar. It looked like a decorative charm, about the size of a coin. She assumed it was just a pet accessory—maybe a tracker or a toy.

Angela fetched a bowl of water from the kitchen and rummaged through her cupboard for a packet of cat treats she’d bought just in case she ever had a feline visitor. Mat accepted the offerings with polite interest before padding around the apartment, tail flicking lazily. He sniffed at corners, peered behind the couch, even hopped onto her bed before settling down in the hallway for a nap.

Over the next week, Mat became a regular visitor. Almost every day after work, Angela would find the ginger cat sitting on her windowsill or already curled up on her couch as if he owned the place. Sometimes he would nap, sometimes he would roam, but he always spent an unusual amount of time near her windows and doors. Angela didn’t think much of it—cats liked vantage points, she told herself. They liked watching the outside world.

Her affection for Mat grew quickly. She stocked up on different snacks—soft tuna bites, crunchy chicken treats, a bit of cooked fish from her own dinners. She even bought a small cat bed for the corner of her living room. In her mind, Mat was becoming her cat, whether or not he belonged to someone else.

Then, one Thursday evening, everything changed. Angela returned home from work to find her front door slightly ajar. Her stomach tightened. She knew she’d locked it that morning. She pushed it open cautiously and stepped inside. The apartment was a mess. Drawers had been pulled out, clothes and papers scattered on the floor. Her jewelry box was gone, her laptop missing from her desk. Even the small cash envelope she kept hidden behind a stack of books had been taken.

Angela’s knees went weak. She sank onto the couch, heart pounding. The violation of it—the thought of strangers walking through her home, touching her things—was almost worse than the loss itself. She grabbed her phone and called the police. The station was busier than she expected. As she waited to give her statement, she noticed a man sitting a few chairs down. He was speaking animatedly to one of the officers, gesturing toward a paper he’d been filling out.

“Same thing,”

She overheard him saying.

“I come home, everything’s gone. Not a door broken, not a lock picked.”

When her turn came, Angela recounted what had happened—her work schedule, when she’d left the apartment, what was missing. As she spoke, one of the officers exchanged a glance with another. When she finished, the officer leaned forward.

“Ma’am, I’m going to ask you something unusual. Have you, in the past few weeks, had any stray cats visiting your apartment?”

Angela blinked.

“Yes… actually, there’s a ginger one that’s been coming by. Why?”

The officer nodded slowly, as if confirming something.

“We’ve had several reports over the last few months of similar break-ins. The connection? All of the victims reported stray cats showing up before the robbery.”

Angela frowned.

“You mean… someone’s sending cats?”

“Not exactly sending,”

The officer said.

“But a criminal or possibly a group has been fitting small, almost undetectable cameras onto cats’ collars. The cats wander into homes, and the cameras record the layout—where valuables are kept, when people are home, what the locks look like. The thieves use that footage to plan the break-in.”

The words made Angela’s skin crawl. She thought back to the little device on Mat’s collar—the thing she’d mistaken for a charm.

“They’re using people’s love for animals against them,”

The officer continued.

“The cats seem friendly, people let them roam around, and before you know it, the thieves have a perfect map of the place.”

Angela felt sick. Every moment she’d spent feeding Mat, petting him, letting him wander—it had all been watched. As she was leaving the station, the officer gave her final advice:

“Change your locks. Reinforce your doors. And… if the cat comes back, don’t let it in. Call us instead. We’re trying to track them back to whoever owns them.”

The idea of turning Mat away made Angela’s chest tighten. But now she saw the truth: Mat had never been hers. He was just the front for something far more invasive. That night, Angela sat in her quiet apartment, staring at the open window where Mat had first appeared. She thought she heard a faint sound from outside, but she didn’t move. Somewhere down the street, a cat yowled, the sound carrying through the night. Angela closed the window and locked it tight.