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We come back from our vacation to a completely different household: the oldest one, the middle one and the oldest one’s girlfriend have been managing things for more than a fortnight. The food in the fridge looks unfamiliar, sourced from unfamiliar shops. The kitchen table resembles the centre of a boiler room stock fraud operation, with monitors all around and power cords dividing the space at hip level. Below the sink, the dog and the cat are fighting.

“They fight?” I ask.

“Yeah, this happens regularly,” the middle one replies.

The canine traps the feline, over near the back door. The cat rears up on its back legs and nips the dog's ear. The dog shakes the cat off and pursues it around the kitchen table, dodging power cords.

“Common perhaps, but not natural,” I say.

The cat rolls over on its back, assuming a passive stance to draw the dog in. The dog falls for it, and the feline digs its nails into the dog's snout. The dog backs away, with the cat sliding along, hooked underneath.

“I liked it better when they avoided one another,” I state.

“I think they’re having fun,” the eldest says. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”

My spouse enters.

“I thought they were going to take the scaffolding down,” she says.

“They said maybe wait until it rains,” I say, “to confirm the roof repair.”

“And I said I didn’t want to wait,” she says.

“Yeah, I passed that on, but they never showed up,” I add. Scaffolding is expensive, until you want it gone, at which point they’re happy to leave it indefinitely at no charge.

“Can you call them again?” my wife says.

“I’ll do it, right after …” I reply.

The only time the dog and cat cease fighting is just before mealtime, when they agitate in concert to bring feeding forward an hour.

“Stop fighting!” my wife screams. The animals halt, look around, stare at her, and then roll out of the room as a fighting mass.

The dog and the cat fight on and off all morning. At times it appears to be edging beyond playful, but the cat has ample opportunity to escape through the flap and it keeps coming back for more. To get away from the noise I go to my shed, which is icy, left without heat for a fortnight. Eventually I’m driven back to the main room, amid the screens and the wires and the children and pets.

The sole period the dog and the cat are at peace is in the hour before feeding time, when they agitate in concert to bring feeding forward by an hour. The feline approaches the cabinet, settles, and looks up at me.

“Meow,” it says.

“Dinner is at six,” I tell it. “It's only five now.” The feline starts pawing the cupboard door with its front paws.

“That's the wrong spot,” I say. The canine yaps, to support the feline.

“One hour,” I declare.

“You know you’re just gonna give in,” the eldest observes.

“I won’t,” I say.

“Miaow,” the feline cries. The dog barks.

“Alright then,” I relent.

I give food to the pets. The dog eats its food, and then crosses the room to watch the cat eat. After the cat eats, it swivels and lightly bats at the canine. The dog gets the end of its nose under the cat and flips it upside down. The cat runs, stops, pivots and strikes.

“Stop it!” I yell. The dog and the cat pause to glance at me, before carrying on.

The following day I rise early to sit in the quiet kitchen while others sleep. Even the cat and the dog are asleep. Briefly the sole noise is me typing.

The eldest's partner enters the room, ready for work, and fills a water bottle from the sink.

“You’re up early,” she says.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’ve got a photo session today, so I must work now, in case it goes on and on.”

“You’ll enjoy the break,” she notes.

“Indeed,” I agree. “Seeing others, talking.”

“Have fun,” she adds, heading out.

The windows have begun to pale, revealing an overcast morning. Leaves drop from the big cherry tree in bunches. I notice the turtle in the room's corner. We share a sad look as a snarling, rolling ball starts to make its slow progress down the stairs.