Awkwardly

It was cold when Cleo got up that morning even though it was still mid-September. Alma was already in the bathroom, using up all the hot water in her daily shower but she had kindly provided her with a litter box in which to do her business. As Cleo squatted over it, she could not help but think that Alma spent a lot of time in the shower as of late. Ever since she got promoted.

The shower ended. Alma got out, wearing only a towel, and Cleo was only wearing her stainless steel collar, the only type of clothing she was permitted to wear since she signed her last employment contract.

"You can take your shower now, Cleo," said Alma.

"Yes, Mistress," Cleo replied -- even though Cleo was not her real name but the name of a cat that Alma had when she was a child.

Already Alma is taking off her towel in front of her, taking no precautions to shield her breasts and private parts from Cleo's view. Once Cleo thought this was flattering. Nowadays she realized that it was a sign that Alma saw Cleo as little more than part of the furniture. If not a pet. A good pet but still a pet.

Cleo hurriedly entered the shower, hoping that there was still some hot water left. But of course there wasn't. There never was when Alma took a shower.

But a good pet never complains. And that's all Cleo seemed to be to Alma -- a good pet.