Cat Alyst

Please be aware that I am not a bad person. I (like you, maybe) do my best to be a normal person. While "normal" is subjective I think you get the idea. I have a decent job in my career of choice. I own a minimal but not cheap amount of stuff in my little one bedroom apartment. I live alone too, so on my days alone I like to spend it watering my various dracaena plants philodendron. Nothing out of the ordinary, if not somewhat privileged to afford all this.

But as comfortable as I am at my home, I find it can be a little lonely. Whenever I return from the outside, I am greeted by nothing but a dull quiet indifference. It may not be a big of a deal, but for someone like me who struggles with forming deep personal relationships it can be disconcerting. I do not think I am a despondent person, but I won't deny that effort must be made to combat the self-diagnosed depression I feel weighing heavy on my chest.

So, like anyone with my level of wealth and resources, I got a pet. I had never owned a pet beyond a gold fish before, but I felt the time was right for a good companion. A dog seemed fun but too much work and effort. I am already set in my ways and cannot give them the attention they need. So a cat seems more suitable. I hear they're independent, intelligent, and do not need as much maintenance (depending on the breed).

When I went to the shelter to adopt one, it was a bit spontaneous. While I was glad it was swift, I can't escape the feeling I didn't decide on a cat so much as one decided on me. Despite being a cat shelter, it was weird they only had one cat there. An older tomcat with one oversized fang that slightly stuck out from its lip. It's one eye was cloudy and was apparently almost blind. Regardless, the vet said it was still healthy for a 12 year old cat. And to be honest, I felt it'd be pretty shitty if I just walked out of there empty handed. The cat felt ugly to me, but ripping away its last hope felt even uglier.

When I brought the cat home, it seemed to adjust quickly. An older cat, it had been trained well enough to not cause me much problems initially. It knew where its litter and food were. It knew how to avoid causing trouble. That seemed like a big win at first. I had heard stories of mischievous cats causing all sort of kitty hell. But this one seemed more mild and respectful. I did my best to show it all sorts of love and attention. It would happily purr back at me.

Eventually, the cat seemed happier and healthier over time. Its one fang seemed to no longer jut out and its cloudy eye seemed less cloudy. Its original mangy look faded over time but rather quicker than I expected. Still, I saw no reason to suspect anything problematic. That is, until the cat just kept on changing.

One day, I noticed the cat's eyes seemed perfectly fine. The cloudiness was not only gone, you'd be shocked to know it was ever there. Its teeth looked neat in a row and clean. The fur coat was glistening with health. I felt I was doing a good job, but was feeling rather tired more and more. Some days, I didn't even feel like going out anymore. Just wanted to stay home with my adorable cat.

It's so cute, I feel it only gets cuter. But that's the problem that I would realize too late. My attention was being lose to the adorableness. My time and efforts were all being put to the cat. I was this servant who obeyed its every beck and whim. This doesn't seem so bad at first, but I would soon begin neglecting a lot of things. My once tidy home became infested with clumps of cat hair and dust. My clothes had been taken over by loose fur that proved impossible to remove. I would be pulling long strands of cat hair everywhere, even from within me.

One night I just woke up with this cold sweat. The cat was sitting on me as usual but this time I felt I couldn't breathe. I pushed it off and hurried to the washroom where I started to feel nauseous. I ended up retching. Except it wasn't puke that came out, but rather damp clumps of hair that looked it came up from a drain. All coagulated into a hairy gel. The sight of it made be heave until I had nothing left to heave. Maybe I needed to dust the place.

I started the next day by cleaning my place as much as possible. Weeks or months of neglect had turned into debt that now haunted me. Dusting, mopping, cleaning. It took hours and by the end I was exhausted. My arms felt so heavy that I simply dropped to the floor ready to pass out. And I did.

The cat then climbed on top of me again. This time, however, it sat on my neck. I could feel its claws dig gently into my skin. Its fur was suffocating, literally - I could not breathe. When I tried to move my arms or anything, I realized I was too weak. My teeth hurt on one side and suddenly my vision was getting cloudy in one eye. Was this the result of air deprivation?    Please climb off cat, I'm dying.

Oh but look how cute he looks with his squinty eyes and little face how can I disturb him when…

uh…

what was I saying?

I was…

uh…

feel light-headed…

haha…

oh no…