The Lighthouse Keeper's Cat

On a rock at the edge of the sea stood a white lighthouse, and in the lighthouse lived a keeper named Mr D'Souza and a grey cat named Sardine.

Every evening, when the sun touched the water, the two of them climbed the stairs. There were one hundred and twelve steps, going round and round. Mr D'Souza counted them under his breath. Sardine did not count. She simply arrived.

At the top was the great lamp, as tall as a man, inside a room made of glass. Mr D'Souza polished it with a soft cloth. Then he switched it on.

A long beam of light reached out over the dark sea. It turned slowly, like the hand of an enormous clock. It swept over the waves, over the rocks, over the far-off fishing boats, and came back round again.

Sardine sat on the window ledge and watched it go. Her eyes followed the light out, and followed it back. Out, and back.

"There," said Mr D'Souza, settling into his chair with a cup of tea. "Now the boats know where the rocks are. Now they can all find their way home."

Far out on the water, small lights were moving towards the harbour. One. Two. Five. They were the fishing boats, coming in with their catch. Each one passed safely, well clear of the rocks, and slipped behind the harbour wall.

The sea breathed in and out against the rock. Hush, it said. Hush.

Sardine's head began to nod. Out went the light, and back. Out, and back. Her eyes closed, opened, and closed again.

Mr D'Souza finished his tea. He looked at the cat, asleep on the ledge with the light passing over her fur, turning it silver, then grey, then silver again.

"You sleep," he said softly. "The lamp and I will keep watch."

And all night long the light went round, slow and steady, over the sleeping cat and the sleeping sea.