The cat came back today. It pawed at the door as I was writing. I didn’t think it would come back after I yelled at it. But I guess cats don’t care if they’re yelled at. They want what they want. They roam. They go as they please.
And this cat decided to come back and wrap herself around my ankles as I was figuring out what to do with the second and fifth paragraphs of my short story.
I don’t think that the cat really loves me. I think she was just hungry.
I’ve never owned a cat before. She’s legally someone else’s cat. She still has her collar on. She still has a microchip. I went to the vet to make sure that she did. She’s named Daisy, even though she looks nothing like a daisy. But the owner won’t take her back. When I called her owner on the phone, she said she never had a cat in the first place. I suspect that the owner had dementia or Alzheimer’s.
So, for the time being, I’m kind of stuck with the cat, and the cat seems to want to stick with me.
The cat will have to deal with me and me shenanigans alone. She’ll have to deal with all of the papers strewn about the floor as I try to write yet another short story that will help me pay the bills on time.
Sometimes, I wonder if the cat wasn’t actually a cat, but some person in a cat’s body. A reincarnation of the last roommate you had in college. The one that was super quiet and didn’t want to go to any sports games, opting to watch re-runs of American Idol instead.
May I could write about that instead of this garbage I’m working on. Maybe there’s a story even in the neighborhood wandering cat.
Nothing hard about that.
Hey, everybody. Hope you liked this week’s flash fiction piece. I feel like they’re getting shorter and shorter. But that’s okay. I’m experimenting with freewriting and shorter forms at the moment.
If you liked this piece or found it meaningful, please consider giving what you can so that I can write more stories like this.
And as always, see you on the next post.