After two weeks the cats had not only come out of hiding, they had taken over the apartment. It had been a few months since I’d shared the apartment with anyone and the company of those two kittens felt wonderful. I watched them from my desk in a corner in the living room as they leapt about on the furniture, sprang onto the coffee and dining tables with surprising agility, and rested peacefully on the floor beneath a sunbeam. Milton liked to be near me when I worked. He’d snuggle against my feet and fall asleep as I typed. Greta, however, preferred that I paid attention to nothing but her, with long, slow caresses. She’d mew for them every time I came home from some outing to the library or movies.

Though I had several friends I’d see from time to time, at parties or public events for my department, that year I led a rather solitary existence, obsessed with writing my thesis to which I dedicated most of my time. I didn’t have a partner. For the first three years of the program I’d been in a stable relationship with another student in the department and I didn’t like any of those I’d met since well enough to sleep with them more than once or twice, more out of loneliness than anything else and always in an intoxicated state and late at night. The cats eased considerably that need for affection. The three of us were a team. I contributed a quiet and maternal energy; Greta, liveliness and coquetry; and Milton, masculine vigor. So pleasant was the equilibrium we established between us that I thought a long while before choosing a roommate with whom to split the utility bills. I still interviewed possible new candidates as they turned up but I didn’t accept any of them, for fear the intruder would disrupt the atmosphere in the house. The cats did not look kindly on having a fourth person, either. Aware—god knows how—of my intentions, they were visibly hostile toward the candidates. If a girl, Greta would bare her fangs and raise every hair on her body. If on the other hand the candidate was a guy, Milton would shamelessly mark his territory by urinating on the interested student’s shoes. Thankfully, the scholarship I had at the time was enough to cover the bills.