A hundred year old house

The house was a hundred years old.
I would be here for a year working on my latest project.
By the time the men helping with the luggage left, it was dark.
I do not remember when I fell asleep.
The sound of someone walking in the attic woke me up.
My watch told me it was two in the morning.
Picking up a cane, I crept up expecting to find a thief but found no one there.
Too tired to investigate, I went back to sleep.
The next day I was busy unpacking when I heard the noise again.
I rushed up the stairs that opened into the attic, prepared for battle.
In the middle of the room stood a cat. I wanted to shoo it away but stopped.
I realized that I was not alone anymore. I had a friend.