I hope to this day that it was nothing more than a bad dream, but as a precaution, I still avoid eye contact with all cats. I go out of my way to dodge them, and you can picture how bothersome this is given their number. These nasty things are spread everywhere like germs, quite the impossible species to eradicate.
I often lie in bed awake at ungodly hours, conjuring ways to get rid of them. It won’t be a global or nationwide effort (what consequences will I face for animal cruelty?), but a simple campaign in my city. Achieving that, I’ll never leave the boundary of my newly cat-less home. It sounded like a good plan – one that will never happen.
Who knows, though? If this started because a cat spoke to me, then anything can happen at this rate.
It gives me chills just remembering that rainy afternoon: me, standing outside campus, staring down at a fat, grey tabby that called me by my name. Satisfied that it got my attention, it licked its paw twice and added, ‘Human, come with me. We’ve chosen you for a special task.”
I followed it down an alley and into an abandoned building, where I found myself in the middle of a congress of cats. The grey tabby climbed a pile of cartons before addressing me again. “We’ve had trouble lately with a stray dog messing up our community. After several weeks of watching you, we’ve decided you’re best suited for getting rid of that dog.”
I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. When several moments passed, and they received no response, Grey Tabby raised its paw. “Alright, if you’re unwilling to take on this task, leave and forget this happened. We promise never to speak to you again.”
In the first few days following this ‘bad dream,’ cats gave me strange looks, the same ones humans use whenever they see someone in the crowd they think they know. In the end, I decided to just avoid all contact whatsoever because, truly, it couldn’t have happened, right?
