Cat and Mouse, Except the Mouse is Me

September 6th

For the record, I don’t like cats. I mean, they’re okay, but dogs are far superior. 

My proof?

This one cat is obsessed with me. It won’t leave me alone. And it’s black. So just my luck. I have a bad omen following me around wherever I go.

When I do the dishes, it’s on the windowsill, curled up and bathing in the evening light. When I go to sleep, it snuggles up right next to me, and I push it off the bed. Yet, in the morning, it’s there, using my stomach as a headrest. When I’m driving in the car, it rides in the passenger seat.

It’s become our routine; wake up, I make breakfast, and leave a bowl of milk for it on the floor next to my chair. When I go to the office, it rides in the car, tinkering with the radio channels until it finds NPR. It really likes the show “Wait Wait, Don’t Tell Me!”. Then, I slip it in my bag, and we walk in. 

“Hey,” my cubicle buddy Carl calls. 

“Hey,” I nod back. The first day the cat came to work with me, I didn’t expect it to come in. So imagine my surprise when I sit down in my office chair, in my lonely cubicle, on my lonely floor in the lonely building to see the freaking cat just chilling on my keyboard. I yelped, then quickly coughed to cover it up.

“What in god’s name are you doing here?” I asked.

It just stared back at me, as if to say,

What do you think, jackass? You left me at home! I go where you go, stupid!

It’s like the cat knows me.

Yet I don’t know the cat.

September 9th

These incidents have kept happening. It’s weirdly endearing, yet still obnoxious. Why on earth would this cat be obsessed with me? I just don’t understand. I have no friends. I’m not even remotely interesting. I just lie around and read my favorite books over and over. I drink tea (no iced lattes for me). I eat the same foods every day (strawberry smoothie for breakfast, peanut butter and jelly for lunch, Roscoe’s Corner Pizza for dinner). I wear a small cycle of 3 different pairs of pants, 5 shirts, 2 shoes, and one irreplaceable hat. I watch the same shows over and over. 

I am incredibly boring. 

Yet this cat is taking an interest in me. It makes me feel special, in some weird, sick way. Like, why me? There are so many other people who are so much more miserable whose biggest problem isn’t being uninteresting. The cat should go to them. I do not need the cat. 

I’ve told it that, multiple times. We have conversations through intense staring and eye rolling.

Me: points at cat, points at myself, makes an X.

I don’t need you.

Cat: rolls eyes.

Yeah, right.

Me: points at the door.

There’s the door. Leave. 

Cat: jumps into my arms, and bats my face gently.

No. Stupid,

Me: points both hands at the door, dropping the cat, and gestures emphatically towards it.

LEAVE!

Cat: glares at me.

How about…no.

September 10th

Another Friday night, alone in my room.

Well, not so alone now, I guess. The cat was perched on my lap as I was scrolling through some random app on my phone, liking photos of people I’ll never meet doing amazing things I’ll never get to do.

Suddenly, the cat looked up. It swatted at my eyes.

“Cat, this is normal. I always cry.”

It didn’t like that very much. 

“Cat, please don’t make this worse.” 

It laid its head right under my chin.

I started to cry harder. 

“Cat, I’m fine.”

It whacked me with its tail.

No you’re not. Shut up.

“You’re really annoying,” I sob-laughed.

It purred loudly, its pitch-black fur rippling with the sound.

Yeah, that’s kind of the whole point.

September 14th

It has come to my attention that no one else can see the cat. How I found this out, you might ask.

I was walking towards the car on a specifically dreary morning, with gray skies, gray buildings and a grayish mood, when the cat jumped out of my bag, climbed up my arm, and curled up around my neck. It was a comforting thing, the cat. Like finding a childhood toy in a moving box. 

Unfortunately, my neighbor was there, walking out of the apartment building to her car at the same time. 

I scrambled, grabbing the cat and shoving it in my bag again.

“Sorry about that, my cat’s a little crazy,” I chuckled nervously. My neighbor stared at me.

“Um, what cat?”

I flushed. 

What do you mean, what cat? The cat that was on my shoulders! The cat squirming around indignantly in my shoulder bag!

“Sorry,” I apologized again. “Nevermind.” 

She looked at me, with visible fear and concern in her eyes.

“Have a good day, then,” 

“Uh, yeah, um…you too?”

So that’s how I found out it’s just me who can see the cat.

I’m going mad.

September 16th

Another lonely birthday, except for a cat that has an obsession with my emotions and is only visible to me.

Very common, I know.

My parents sent me 50 dollar amazon gift cards, one from each of them. I could blame them for not knowing me better, but one, I don’t really have any interests, and two, I don’t really talk to them. 

The cat somehow got hold of two celebratory items of sorts. When I woke up, it was on the nightstand, sitting next to a half-smashed supermarket chocolate cupcake with a cardboard party hat on its head.

It seemed to grin, cocking its head to the right, its cheeks turning... sort of up? I mean, I’ll take it. It’s the first time someone has attempted to celebrate my birthday since I moved out of my parent’s house.

Then, of course, I was crying again, simply from the affection of this stupid, imaginary yet real, poltergeist-like cat.

It cared.

Well, that’s a first.

September 18th

A question had started to plague my thoughts, a virus, whether for good or evil, taking over a computer.

Who, and what, is this cat?

Why me?

What is its name?

Why can only I see it?

It seemed to know I was wondering about these things. It seemed anxious, trying its hardest to prove itself to me. Its cocky demeanor had vanished, gone, a child's balloon lost to the sky.

However, I wasn't going to make my only friend leave. The cat was now stuck with me, for better or worse. At least, I hoped so.

“Cat, why are you here?” I asked one night, while I was undoing my button-up and sliding on a plain, old, wrinkly white t-shirt and some sweatpants to sleep in. I slid into my bed, as I tapped the spot next to me where the cat always laid.

It gazed solemnly at me, a single tear dropping out of its left eye.

And it was gone.

Just, gone. Like it had never been there at all.

“Cat?” I pushed the covers back and leaped out of my bed. “Cat! Where are you?”

The cat was gone.

Which really sucked, not only because it was my only friend, but because I had just figured out who the cat was. And now I didn’t want it to leave. 

Before

“Cat, why are the kids being mean? Why do they say you’re not real? You’re real, all right! I can see you with my two eyes!” I blinked hard at Cat to prove I have two eyes, and that they are working.

It’s okay, you’ll find your friends. Besides, sometimes people will be mean.

“But it’s mean! Mrs. Thomason says not to be mean!”

Cat jumped into my lap, curling up for a nice long nap in the bathroom stall.

That’s just how some people are. But it’s okay. You have me.

“You’re right, Cat. I have you,”

I know I’m right. I always am.

“Cat,” I sobbed. “I failed my first math test. My first test of middle school. How, Cat? I studied so hard. You saw me,”

That was a hard test! Besides, sometimes people are unfair. They do things because they want to trick you, or want you to prove your worth.

“Cat, I already studied hard. I can’t study more.” Cat gracefully leaped onto my bed, grabbed Jelly Bean (my stuffed animal), and leaped back down, giving it to me.

You don’t have to do more. You’ll find your class. You’ll find your friends. And remember, you always have me, stupid. I’m always right here,

I chuckled, throaty and snotty.

“Yeah, I know, Cat. I know.”

“Cat, she broke up with me. She said I wasn’t interesting enough.” I glanced around my room, its gray walls, meticulous book shelves, a few photos. Jelly Bean and a few other stuffies on my bed. 

Well, I think you’re perfectly interesting. Besides, sometimes people can be not right for you. Sometimes, there’s just no spark. 

“Cat, I hate this feeling. I…I really liked her, Cat. I sort of thought she was it.”

I know. It’ll be okay, though. You’ll be fine. And you have me!

“Yeah, I know, Cat…thanks,”

Yeah, yeah…

Now

“Cat! Please, Cat, I remember. I remember. Please, Cat, I miss you! You’re my only friend…please, Cat…” I crumple to the floor of my cold room in a cold apartment in a cold world, with no Cat to warm me up.

“I need you, Cat. And I think you need me too.”

I turn “Wait Wait, Don’t Tell Me!” on on my phone. 

I set out a bowl of milk (2%. Whole milk is too rich. Cat doesn’t like it.)

Finally, I get into bed, and leave the covers open, so in case Cat wants to come back in, there is a spot for it.

“I love you, Cat,” I croak. “I’ll wait for you. Take your time. I’ll be here when you need me.”

September 19th

Cat is sitting on the counter, just sort of chilling there. I yelp in surprise, then it quickly turns into an exclamation of joy.

“Cat! I missed you so much,” it rolls its eyes.

It was one night, doofus.

“Okay, and? I clearly have attachment issues!”

It grins, and practically skips up my arms onto my shoulders, wrapping its body around my neck. Its comfort place.

It’s okay. Besides, sometimes people are like that.

…

And some cats, too, I suppose.