Flint, Ruth’s cat, is standing at the top of the stairs looking accusing. He wasn’t expecting her back until six (Ruth always tells him the exact time) but he manages to convey the impression that she is late and he is starving. ‘Hallo, Flint,’ says Cathbad, who believes that he has a psychic connection with the cat. ‘How are you?’ ‘What would you do if he answered you?’ says Ruth. ‘He is answering me,’ says Cathbad. Flint is certainly communicating something, rubbing himself around Cathbad’s legs and purring loudly. Ruth tries not to think that they’re talking about her.
