The study door floated open, and my eyes caught sight of the kitchen light flickering ominously over a cupboard door which opened and closed itself every few seconds. If this happened in anybody else’s house, I would advise a prompt exorcism, but I had no ghastly ghostly problems here. No. I knew exactly who was behind this skullduggery. 

     Heaving a heavy sigh, I pushed myself from my desk chair, and sauntered into the kitchen. I snapped the light off and held the cupboard door shut for a full minute before turning to go back to my study.

     At that moment, the cupboard door flung itself open, and a ceramic mug pitched out of the cupboard at my head. I managed to dodge it, but my adrenaline had been triggered, and my heart beat wildly in my chest. “This must stop now!” I bellowed.

     “Ooooooh, poor Karen, it’s always disturbing when the mugs turn violent, isn’t it?” replied Bizness, my cat. His voice positively dripped with sarcasm.

     “What is your problem, cat?”

     “My problem? My problem is that you left me alone all day and practically all last night. It’s like I’m not even here.”

     “Well, to be fair, you are actually invisible … soooo there’s that,” I said, kicking myself once again for getting an invisible cat during the height of the pandemic in 2020.

     “Where were you, Karen? You can tell me. I won’t be mad.”

     I stooped to sweep the pieces of the broken mug into a dustpan. “You will be mad. You’re always mad when I go places without you.” 

     “Yet you continue to do it.”

     “Yet I continue to do it,” I said agreeably, tossing the broken mug pieces into the garbage. “If you really must know, we went to Searsport to visit the Penobscot Marine Museum—”

     “Ugh, boring.”

     “And then we went out to dinner at the Homeport Inn and Tavern with my sister and her husband.”

     “Less boring, continue.”

     “I’ll show you pictures if you promise you’ll leave me alone to write afterwards.”

     “What choice do I have? You have me by the balls, Karen. Life is so tedious here.”

     “Cat,” I said in a warning tone.

     “That’s not my name.”

     “Yeah, well … if you ever get my name right, I’ll get your name right,” I said.

     “I promise, Karen,” the Cat said, faking a childish high-pitched mocking voice.

     I got out my phone and pulled up the photographs I’d taken the previous night. “Okay, this is the Captain John P. Nichols house. The story goes like this. John went to sea by age eleven, captained his own ship by age twenty-one, and having made his fortune, retired back home to Searsport by the age of forty-seven to this mansion he had built for himself and his family in 1865,” I said showing the cat the first two pictures and going on to the next one.

“Look, the house is crowned with this elaborate cupola. I was in awe.”

“Hmmmm. Yes, well … small things do amuse you, Karen, dear.”

      “We drove around to the back of the Inn where the Homeport Tavern is located. There we met the new owners and operators Arnaud and Allison Lessard and all the fabulous wait staff and chef, Kip Dixon.

     “We relaxed in the English pub-styled bar area while we waited to be seated for dinner. This is my brother-in-law who claims “he never takes a bad picture.”

“Jury is out on that one, Karen. I’ll need more pictures to verify that. He does have a lovely handbag.”

“The handbag belongs to his wife.”

“Whatever you say, Karen. Whatever you say. Go on with your story.”

    “We got there early and had a glass of wine. The whole tavern experience was laid-back and welcoming. I loved every minute of it. Then we went into the black and gold dining room for dinner.”

“Black and gold? Bold choice.”

“It was simple, yet elegant at the same time. I am not one given to rave reviews of food experiences, but I must make an exception for the Homeport Tavern & Inn. The food was amazing, and I heard they now have live music most nights, which is great because it would be ashamed not to have music with that grand piano sitting in the corner. And last, but not least, here’s what we had to eat.”

     “How about this, Karen? I’ll leave you alone for the day if you promise to take me the next time you go.”

     “You already promised you’d leave me alone if I showed you pictures.”

“I changed my mind, so we’re changing terms.”

“You cannot go into the Homeport Tavern with us. I’m sure it violates the state health code.”

     “Who will ever know, Karen? Huh? Hello? I’m invisible.”

     “And just exactly how do I explain to people that I have an invisible cat with me?”

     “You don’t say anything, Karen. You get a table for two and say nothing. Besides if it should come out, anyone that knows you … knows how fleeting reality is for you.”

“That was extremely unkind,” I said, knowing full well the cat was making a valid point about my eccentricities.

     “Sorry,” the cat said, pretending to cough up a hairball. “Take me there next week, and I’ll stop pestering you.”

     “Okay, fine, but you can’t trip the wait staff and there is no breaking anything while we’re there.”

     “Deal!” said the cat. “Dismissed, Karen. You may now go back to your hole undisturbed for the rest of the day.”

     “It’s called a study. And leave the paragraph indentations on WordPress alone. You keep making me look inept.”

     “Whatev, Karen Whatev.”