Special Pets

Every day, people walk into my cat shelter. Most of them visit in hopes of finding a furry companion to adopt and take home. Others show up asking to volunteer so they can spend time with the adorable little furballs. These people adore my cats so much that they never want to leave.

and some of them never will.

Every now and then a woman who I find absolutely fascinating walks in. Whether it’s because of her hair, her eyes, or the way she walks and talks. There is something about her that draws me in, and I refuse to let her leave.

It’s the same old story all the time. The mesmerizing woman expresses interest in adopting a cat. I show her around the shelter and introduce her to all the cats in my care. Eventually the captivating woman finds a cat to her liking.

She begins to inquire about the cat, asking me if it received all of its shots, as well as some other questions. Once she’s satisfied with the answers, I tell her that there are some "important documents" that we need to go over in order to continue the adoption process. I show her to my office, and that’s where the real fun begins.

After I close the door behind us, I pull out my chloroform-soaked rag and press it over her nostrils. Once she is unconcious, I carry her, ever so gently, into the basement where I keep my special pets.

I promise you, I am no monster. My special pets are treated with the utmost care... as long as they behave. They each have their own cages filled with everything a pet will need. A small yet comfortable mattress, a single pillow, two bowls for food and water, and little toys to amuse themselves with.

I have a total of 12 pets in my care. Each of them is captivating and delightful in their own unique way. Although I love them all very dearly, there are some that I favor more than the others.

Pet #6 has the most extraordinary hazel eyes, bearing a resemblance to pools of honey. But she’s a plucky little thing. She somehow managed to take the tape off her mouth even though her hands were tied. I came in one morning to open the shelter for the day and heard her screaming for help. How unfortunate would that have been if anyone had heard her yelling. They’d call the police, I’d be arrested, and my darlings would be taken away. But all is well now that I’ve put a muzzle over her mouth. I suspect that it will be harder for her to take off.

Pet #11 is such a pretty little thing. Big doe eyes, skin like porcelain, and rosy cheeks. She’s my precious little doll, but she’s always struggling against her chains. I usually have to inject her with something to make her sleep. She’s generally more calm after she wakes up.

And then there’s pet #2, oh my pet #2, how I love her so. She’s more exotic than the other pets. Her hair is so coily and kinky, her skin an exquisite shade of brown. Sometimes I come down here and just stare at her for hours. Oh how I wish I could hold her, but I know if I let her out of her cage, she’ll just try to escape. 

I adore all of my special pets. But every now and then I have one that needs to be put down. In this case, it’s pet #9. 

My precious #9 I remember when I first laid eyes on you. Two years ago, a tall woman with beautiful long legs walked into my cat shelter. She was a dancer who just moved here from Chicago for a job opportunity. She was so graceful, so elegant. I just had to have her, and that’s when she became my precious #9.

My dear #9 I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but you’ve left me no choice. No matter how many methods of discipline and torture I try, you just won’t stop trying to escape. I am left with no other option but to rid myself of you.

Killing one of my beloved pets pains me more than it pains them. But sometimes it just has to be done. You would think I’d be used to it by now since I have terminated some of my dear pets in the past, but that is not the case. Every time I eliminate a pet, I experience a long period of sadness and mourning. The only thing that can make me feel better is to find another pet to take its place. 

Like I’ve said before, I am no monster. I won’t discard my dear pet #9 by throwing her in a ditch or burning her like some psychotic lunatic. I will make very good use of her corpse.

I chopped up her body into delicate little pieces, so it will be easier for the cats in the shelter to digest. I even snuck a little piece for myself, just a little. Oh how symbolic is it to consume the flesh of someone you love! My darling may no longer be alive, but a little piece of her still remains inside of me, literally and figuratively.

Words cannot describe the grief I felt as I placed the delicate little pieces of my #9’s flesh into the cat food. I watched as the cats feasted on her remains. I’m glad they are enjoying her just as much as I did.

The next few weeks were bleak. I was just going through the motions. People were filtering in and out of the shelter, some looking to adopt and others doing volunteer work. I saw many potentials, but no one really caught my eye.

Who could possibly replace my precious #9? I was beginning to lose hope, until one day a woman walked through the door.

This woman was young; she couldn't have been older than 22. Apparently, she was applying to graduate school next year and wanted to spruce up her application by doing some volunteer work.

At first, I didn’t think there was anything special about her until she smiled. That smile, oh, that wondrous smile! It was like seeing sunshine on a rainy day. Who knew that an ordinary girl could have a smile so marvelous?!

I knew she would be a wonderful new addition to my collection.