Chapter 2 - The Escalation of the GuardBy the second week, the midnight routine had transformed into an exhausting war of attrition.
They tried everything. They bought a heavy-duty baby gate and installed it in the nursery doorway. Pipo simply scaled it like a furry mountain climber, his claws finding purchase in the mesh, dropping softly onto the carpet on the other side. They locked him in the laundry room downstairs with a heated bed, fresh water, and his favorite toys. Pipo howled with such desolate, window-shattering intensity that he woke the entire household—and more dangerously, startled Emma awake into screaming fits of colic that took hours to soothe.
So they gave up. Or rather, exhaustion defeated them.
During the days, Pipo’s behavior grew even stranger. He abandoned his usual sunbathing spots on the back of the living room sofa. Instead, he became a shadow attached to Emma’s tiny, crawling footsteps. When Eileen rocked the baby in the glider, Pipo sat directly beneath the footrest, his ears flicking at every creak of the wood. When Damien changed her diaper on the changing table, Pipo stood on his hind legs, resting his front paws on the lower shelf, staring intently not at the diaper, but at Emma’s face, tracking the rise and fall of her torso.
“Maybe he thinks she’s his kitten,” Damien suggested one afternoon, leaning against the kitchen counter.
Eileen stood in the center of the kitchen, holding a mug of cold, forgotten coffee. Emma was napping peacefully in her portable bassinet just two feet away on the dining table. Pipo sat right beside the bassinet, perfectly still, his body coiled like a spring.
“Cats don’t guard babies like this, Damien,” Eileen said, her voice tight with a rising, unnameable dread. “Mother cats protect kittens because they’re vulnerable, yes. But Pipo isn’t grooming her. He isn’t cuddling her to sleep. He’s... he’s monitoring her. It’s like he’s waiting for something to go wrong.”
Damien chuckled lightly, walking over to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “You’re reading too much into it, El. You’re sleep-deprived. We both are. The baby book said cats can be territorial or protective of new additions. He’s just claiming her as part of his pack.”
Before Eileen could answer, Emma made a microscopic sound in her sleep—a tiny, aborted hitch of breath, not even a cry, just a momentary catching in her throat.
Pipo reacted instantly.
His body jerked upright. Every single whisker shot forward. He didn't blink. He leaned over the edge of the bassinet, his nose hovering inches from Emma’s cheek, vibrating with an intensity that made Eileen’s breath catch in her lungs.
Then Emma exhaled a long, shaky sigh, and her breathing settled back into its shallow rhythm. Pipo relaxed, sinking back onto his haunches, though his green eyes remained glued to her face.
Eileen set her coffee mug down so hard the ceramic cracked against the granite. “Look at him. Does that look like a normal cat behavior to you?”
Damien looked down at the orange tabby, and for the first time, the amusement faded from his eyes, replaced by a slow, creeping unease. He didn't have an answer.
That night, the scratching at the nursery door started earlier.
At 3:47 a.m., the frantic patter of claws pulled Eileen out of a deep sleep. She didn't bother yelling; she just got out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cold floorboards. When she opened the nursery door, Pipo bolted inside like a streak of copper lightning, vaulted into the crib, and immediately pressed one heavy paw lightly against Emma’s chest.
Not crushing. Not trapping.
Feeling.
Damien appeared behind her in the doorway, tying the belt of his bathrobe, his expression grim. He watched the cat’s paw resting over the infant's heart.
“How long has this been happening?” Damien asked quietly, the sleep completely gone from his voice.
“Two weeks,” Eileen whispered, wrapping her arms around her own waist as if to ward off a sudden chill. “Every single night. At the exact same time.”
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Damien looked from the cat to their sleeping daughter, his jaw tightening. “Call the vet tomorrow morning. The moment they open. I want Pipo checked. Something is wrong with him.”
“With him?” Eileen echoed, her voice trembling. “Or with her?”
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