The Black Cat

I was walking down the dark, dirty, and dim streets of Los Angeles, these treacherous and mysterious streets with which I was not familiar in any shape or form. Trash and waste littered the streets as homeless folks walked around with shopping carts filled with their belongings, smelling like rotten death, and the rich Hollywood celebrities drove right by them in their fancy Porsches and Ferraris. It was safe to say I had no direction in my life, and I could not tell you how I ended up here in this dystopian hellscape. Perhaps there were dreams and delusions of grandeur that caused me to end up there, maybe I was just confused, maybe the way this place was portrayed in pop culture warped my view, or maybe I'm trying to live up to the expectations of my parents on the other side of the country. I abandoned them despite their love and affection for me because I felt and believed I was better than them. I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life, but it wasn't what my parents did to support themselves. 

You might be wondering where I was walking to, and honestly, most of the time I didn't know either, but in this case I was walking to the glorified prison cell of an apartment I lived in. The place was super tiny; it was only 10x10 and had an insane cost of $2600 to rent. It was an awful deal, but I figured once I made it big, I could work my way up to a better one. That didn't happen. Even though I worked, I mainly paid for the apartment by scavenging off the blood-soaked scraps that my parents from far, far away had given to me to help me survive. On the start of my journey, they deposited $10,000 into my bank account, which sounds like a lot of paper, but when you're surrounded by vampires and don't know how to interact with those around you, money dries up quick. Perhaps I could have talked my way into being somebody's roommate, but that would have required me to properly socialize with others, something I was awful at and didn't want to get better at. I honestly don't know what I was doing there, but I'd heard the stories about people coming there with much less than me and turning it into a million dollars. I thought I could make something work, but I was not worthy of that. I was working odd job after odd job before I got a gig at a diner as a cook. You'd think the $10,000 would've lasted me longer, but I'm stupid and bad with money. I hated interacting with my co-workers, but the diner gig paid consistently, and I was barely able to pay rent through that job. 

Every day when my shift was over and i'd start to walk home, I would see the same black cat staring at me on top of a dumpster. They would meow at me and try to invite me over, but I never paid them much attention; I needed to get home and sleep after all. For three months, every time I walked down that alleyway to get home, the cat would greet me. They were never there in the morning or afternoon; only in the evening when I happened to be walking home from work. The job sustained me for three months, but my days were numbered. I missed a couple months' rent, and even though I told the landlord I was honestly working to pay the debt back, they weren't having it. They threw out all my stuff, leaving it for those passing by to steal and destroy. Everything I had worked hard to own was now gone and destroyed. I was now among the homeless that I had walked past every day. The people at the diner saw I was homeless, but rather than helping me, they said they didn't want anything to do with me and used it as an excuse to fire me. They tried to mask it and come up with excuses by claiming if there was nowhere to send the paycheck to, they'd have to let me go, but I knew that was complete nonsense. They gave me my final paycheck and kicked me out. I went to the bank across the street to cash the check, but I was beaten up and robbed before I could cash it. I was officially penniless and a shell of my former self, but what even was there in the first place? I was a lost soul, a rolling stone, and a useless waste of space. 

Even though the homeless encampment was 2 miles east, I went in the same direction I would go if I were going to my apartment. I thought about calling home to my family and telling them I failed and needed to fly back, but when I reached the payphone, not only was I without any money, I couldn't get myself to make the call. I broke down crying; I had no clue who or what I was. but I did not want to give up like that on myself. When I walked down the alleyway I would normally go down to get to the apartment, the black cat was still there, staring at me and judging me with those piercing yellow eyes. For the first time in three months, the cat decided to jump off the top of that dumpster and walk over to me. And as if I were a long-lost friend, they nuzzled up against my leg. I was confused, but I welcomed the attention, I had nobody else to confide in or have comfort me. I was always a loner, never really fitting in anywhere, but for some reason, in this very moment, I felt like I wasn't alone anymore. The cat began to lead me down the alleyway, but instead of taking a right after the alleyway like normal, they guided me left. I had no clue where they were going to take me, but it wasn't like I really had anywhere to go outside of some dumb homeless shelter. My curiosity (along with my ego) got the better of me. The cat took me to the place where the rich people lived. My hair was greasy and unkempt, my clothes were tattered, and I hadn't showered in weeks. I was a shell of a man. The cat led me towards a wooden fence, and on the other side was a decent sized backyard. They hopped on top of the fence and looked over at me to see if I would follow. I thought about it for a second, but eventually I did. They slowly led me towards a wooden shed. Inside that shed were dozens upon dozens of other felines. Aside from the felines, there lay a bottle of water, a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of whiskey, and a sleeping bag. I grinned as I laid my head down and smoked a cigarette, the cats surrounding me from all sides. You'd think things would feel cramped and claustrophobic, but I felt fine. I felt at home. I felt for the first time in months that perhaps things would be okay. I was finally understood by someone.