The Twin Stray Cats

If ever you hear a stray cat meowing at night, never, ever try to follow it. That sounded like a stern warning. But coming from my grandpa Nalo, you would never tell if it was one of his “in our time” stories or if he was being serious.

We had learned to laugh off grandpa’s stories and warnings. That would make him awfully pissed off sometimes. And not just him. When my brother and I laughed about something, it would make anyone hate themselves for what they had said or done. And grandpa was not an exception.

But we were kids then. Turned adults, we often joked about how often Mr. Nalo repeated that stray cat warning. We did not stop to think, then, that time has its way of bringing back the old you thought was replaced by the new.

Grandpa passed on a little after I turned 12, and years later, we shoved off the thought that his stray cat warning would become a reality. Grampy had probably made up the whole thing to instill fear, and cats never really meowed at night.

I was amazed at how my ever-dissenting brother readily agreed with me on this one. But, had I known the horrifying consequences this pact would have, I would have paid him to pretend he disagreed with me.

As they say, you cannot compete with a ghost. Grandpa had probably managed to make my brother stay on my side so he could take revenge on us both for all the times we had nearly cracked our ribs from laughing at the expense of his smile. Time was about to serve us what we deserved.

“Meow, meow, meow.”

Had I just heard the sound of a cat?

It was dark and chilly, and after a long day planting and transplanting my potted plants for the spring, I didn’t feel like I wanted to get out of bed to follow a cat.

But this was a persistent cat. Now the meowing had changed tone.

“Is this cat calling my name? How the heck did the noisy creature know my name?” You had to be next to me to tell if I was really saying that out loud or just thinking it.

“Meo, meo, meeoo, meeeooo!”

It sounded like this cat also had an air of stubbornness. But if he thought I was going to leave the warmth of my bed to reward him for calling my name, he was better looking for some other story to write home about.

What was I even thinking? How would a stray cat know my name? After all, everyone in my neighborhood thought my mom was one of those crazy ones who would call their kid anything just to be different. So, how on earth would a stray cat know my name?

Was I going crazy, or was the cat the one deranged?

For a moment, the thought of my grandpa’s warning came to my mind. I managed to surprise myself by thinking this was the perfect chance to know why my grandpa had forbidden us from following a meowing cat at night.

“Are you crazy Meo? Who in their right mind follows a deranged cat at night?” Now, I was sure I was talking loudly, only it was to myself. I decided that I had to put myself together.

But this noisy feline was not going to stop, and if not to find an answer to an old dilemma, it was time to give this cat a basic training class. People needed quiet to get their good night’s sleep, and well-behaved cats respected that fact and kept their muzzles zipped.

I walked out, still wearing my nightgown over my shortie. Sure enough, a black cat was sitting on the edge of the block on my front balcony. His eyes were glowing like an LED light.

Despite the darkness, I could tell from the little light coming through my bedroom window that the cat was huge. He stared at me for 2 long minutes, turned, then started walking away.

I did not know how and when I started following the stray cat. By the time I realized it, I was walking behind the cat in a poorly lit tunnel. I could see that the tunnel was endless, and a ray of right shone through the tunnel to an end that I could not see.

I barely had time to look around the tunnel when the crazy cat stopped. He pulled what looked like a baton from under his furry coat and raised it, imitating a choirmaster.

“How on earth had this bewitching creature managed to get my grandpa’s baton from the attic where I stored it?” I was beginning to get really scared.

Was this happening to me because I had failed to take my grandfather’s warning seriously? But why me? If anyone deserved some punishment, it was my brother. After all, he was the one that consistently repeated, “Stop it Grumpy! This warning of yours is beginning to sound like a broken record.”

I decided to call my brother to find out if Grandpa was at least being fair and serving him the same dish. And, as if to remind me that I was no longer in the comfort of my home with access to the luxury of a phone, I heard a loud noise.

In less than a second, a choir of cats appeared ahead of us. They were of all colors and sizes. Their meowing tones were so loud I had to block my ears with my palms. But I could still make out that their melodies were coordinated, with intonations similar to those of a choir of human singers.

I checked myself to be sure I had not turned into a cat. I thanked fate that my beautiful body was still intact. By the time I looked up again, the choir was gone, and my stray cat had resumed walking.

“How long would this karma go on?” I wondered. I thought of playing a spoilt kid and throwing a tantrum, shouting that I wanted to go home.

“Now you’ve really lost it, Meo” I thought to myself. “Throwing a tantrum in front of a cat?! Who does that?”

I was relieved that my good brains were intact and I could still make sensible judgments. I settled down and decided to watch and see which way the cat would jump.

But the patience of walking behind a black, stray cat in the dark of a tunnel did not characterize my brain at that moment.

What if the crowder of singing cats was walking behind me? And what if it was something worse? Was my grandpa’s ghost walking behind me and having a good laugh at everything that was happening?

I remembered reading a book on myths about black cats at that moment. One of the black cats was a ghost in disguise.

I resolved to stay in the dark about what was happening behind me and simply stick to the known in front of me. What else was I supposed to do? This cat had managed to get me out of bed and trance me to follow him into a scary tunnel. Who knew what else the merciless creature was capable of doing?

It was as if the feline had read my mind. He began running at full speed. And as though by a magnet, I started running behind the pity-less creature.

I’m not sure for how long we had been running. I was panting and all sweaty. Suddenly, I saw what appeared like my long-bearded grandpa ahead of us. He had his smoking pipe in hand and was laughing heartily.

“I told you following a meowing stray cat at night would get you into trouble. And, by the way, I forgot to tell you to be especially careful if the cat was black.”

“But grandpa, I...” I was going to tell him I wanted to get an answer to the question he had left hanging those many years ago. But, before I could say it, he had vanished.

I turned to check what my cat leader was up to. Without knowing it, I was at the edge of a cliff, and the witch cat was meowing in screams down the cliff. My next step was going to get me right behind the stray feline to the bottom of the cliff.

“Nooooooooo!!!”

My lovely white Ragdoll cat, Nalo, was lying next to me in bed. And all he could do was let out a loud “Meeoow!!!” as I awoke screaming from the nightmare.

The phone was ringing, and I was still trembling like a leaf.

“He was right!”

“Who was right?” I asked my brother when I picked up the phone.

Deo and I were twins, and more often than not, we found ourselves recounting similar dreams. I often thought he was making fun of me because he would always use the “ladies first” excuse to make me narrate mine first. Then he would repeat his dream with the exact details.

“What?! Did you also...”

“I’m coming over!”

My brother never visited me unless something was really out of his control. I guess this one was.

I was sure of one thing, though. I was not going to go first in this one.