Spooky Felines
Augh. The night before last, a dream about my dead cat - that I had raised her from the dead with inappropriate bad-karma necromancy, for a briefly allotted time. In the dream, I alternated between cuddling her frantically and worrying about dispersing the gelatinous blood fetish-glob that was part of the spell. In the morning, I had the question: why doesn't more horror fiction focus on dead pets?
Then, last night, I got home at twilight. Unheralded, my neighbor's beautiful Birman cat appeared at my ankles. I've known this cat for a long time, and in his kittenish younger days, he would sometimes jump into my car with me. That night, he slipped past me as I opened the door and went into my house. Softly, pale in the falling dark, he explored every corner, drifting up onto furniture, suddenly appearing in the room where I was, turning away from an open outside door to explore some more. Being petted was secondary to exploring this tantalizing new space. Just as suddenly, it was time to leave.
Then, last night, I got home at twilight. Unheralded, my neighbor's beautiful Birman cat appeared at my ankles. I've known this cat for a long time, and in his kittenish younger days, he would sometimes jump into my car with me. That night, he slipped past me as I opened the door and went into my house. Softly, pale in the falling dark, he explored every corner, drifting up onto furniture, suddenly appearing in the room where I was, turning away from an open outside door to explore some more. Being petted was secondary to exploring this tantalizing new space. Just as suddenly, it was time to leave.