The scratching starts at six in the morning, directly above Elsa's bed. It is slow and deliberate, like somebody drawing a long line with a fingernail. Then comes a thin, offended meow.
抓挠声在早晨六点响起，就在埃尔莎的床正上方。那声音缓慢而从容，像是有人用指甲划一条长长的线。接着传来一声细细的、带着委屈的猫叫。
By seven, she has worked out what has happened. The neighbor's gray cat, who has always sat on the shared balcony watching Elsa's plants with contempt, has found a gap behind the bathroom pipes. She has climbed into the space above the ceiling and, apparently, cannot find the way back.
到七点，她已经弄明白是怎么回事了。邻居家那只灰猫一向坐在共用的阳台上，轻蔑地盯着埃尔莎的花草。她发现浴室水管后面有个缝隙，钻进了天花板上方的夹层，而且似乎找不到出来的路了。
The neighbor arrives in slippers, close to tears. "She's never done anything like this," she says. "She's afraid of the vacuum cleaner."
邻居穿着拖鞋赶来，几乎要哭出来。“她从来没干过这种事，”她说，“她连吸尘器都怕。”
Soon, the hallway fills with helpers nobody quite invited. A retired electrician from the second floor brings a ladder and an enormous flashlight. The man from the top floor brings a tin of tuna and the opinion that cats cannot resist it.
很快，走廊里挤满了没人真正请来的帮手。二楼一位退休的电工扛来一架梯子和一支超大的手电筒。顶楼的男人带来一罐金枪鱼，还坚信猫根本抵挡不了它。
They open the tuna in the bathroom and wave it under the access panel. The cat answers with a single, flat meow that sounds like a refusal. The electrician climbs the ladder and shines the light through the gap. "I can see her eyes," he reports. "She's looking at me like I owe her money."
他们在浴室里打开金枪鱼罐头，在检修口下面晃来晃去。猫只回了一声平平的叫，听起来像是拒绝。电工爬上梯子，用手电光照进缝隙。“我看见她的眼睛了，”他报告说，“她看我的样子，好像我欠了她钱。”
By ten o'clock, it has been decided that the panel is too small to reach through. "If I were you," the electrician says, "I'd cut a hole. The plaster is old, and it will take a clean patch." Elsa, who has never cut anything more serious than a birthday cake, finds herself holding a small saw.
到十点，大家一致认为检修口太小，手伸不进去。“要是我，”电工说，“就开个洞。这灰泥已经旧了，补起来会很平整。”埃尔莎平生切过的最正经的东西不过是生日蛋糕，此刻却发现自己手里握着一把小锯子。
The hole is not neat. A cloud of white dust drifts down over the sink, the mirror, and all three neighbors. The cat, who has been following the noise, retreats deeper into the ceiling and goes silent.
洞开得并不整齐。一团白色的粉尘飘落下来，落在洗手池、镜子和三位邻居身上。猫一直在循着声音走，这会儿退到夹层更深处，不出声了。
"Well, that worked beautifully," the top-floor neighbor says, wiping plaster from his eyebrows.
“嗯，这下可真是妙极了，”顶楼的邻居一边说，一边擦掉眉毛上的灰泥。
They stand and look at the dark hole. Eventually, the owner sits down on the edge of the bathtub. The electrician starts a rambling story about a parrot he once rescued. Elsa makes a pot of coffee, because it seems wrong not to.
他们站着，望着那个黑洞洞的窟窿。最后，猫的主人坐到了浴缸边上。电工开始絮絮叨叨地讲起他曾经救过的一只鹦鹉。埃尔莎煮了一壶咖啡，因为不煮似乎不太对劲。
An hour later, they have stopped paying attention to the ceiling. The electrician is halfway through his second parrot story when something soft lands on the floor behind them.
一个小时后，他们已经不再留意天花板了。电工讲到第二只鹦鹉的一半，身后的地上忽然落下一个软软的东西。
The cat is covered in plaster dust, so that she looks like a ghost of herself. She does not look at the owner. She does not look at the tuna. She walks straight past all of them, climbs onto Elsa's sofa, and settles in the exact center of the cushion.
猫浑身盖满了灰泥粉尘，看上去像它自己的鬼魂。她不看主人，也不看金枪鱼。她径直从所有人身边走过，跳上埃尔莎的沙发，在坐垫正中央安顿了下来。
"She hates your sofa," the owner says weakly.
“她讨厌你的沙发。”主人无力地说。
"Apparently not," says Elsa.
“看来并不。”埃尔莎说。
