The Black Cat: Cat's P.O.V.

It was raining the night my owners left me alone. The box they had placed me in was water-logged, seemingly just seconds away from caving in from the weight of the liquid. My fur clung to my body and I curled into a ball, my meows for help no match for the volume of the water pouring down outside my shelter. My eyes closed and the sound of the storm lulled me to sleep.

                 

The next morning I awoke to the lid of my box open and a face looking in at me. My shelter had miraculously made it through the night. Rising to my feet, I arched my back and stretched before poking my head out of the opening. One tentative meow was all it took. The lady picked me up, gently, cradling me in her arms. She walked to her vehicle and sat me inside before getting in herself. My eyes darted all around and I curled into a ball once more. This was unfamiliar territory – I didn’t know what to expect.

                 

A long car ride later, she took me into a house and handed me to another human. This one was a man, a friendly looking one, who I liked instantly. Rubbing my head against his hand, I purred, marking my territory. He was to be mine and I was to be his.

*

                 

My owner called me Pluto. I quickly learned to answer to my name, as I learned that my owner favored me over the other pets. My owner was very nice and affectionate, always petting on me, always playing with me. He was perfect. We lived in harmony for months before the changes began to set in. Owner would come home later and later each night, acting entirely out of character. One night was worse than the others. Owner came home with the strange smell on him once again, stumbling around the room. I ran the other direction, steering clear of his feet that were going in every direction.

                

 “He’s avoiding me!” Owner’s voice sounded throughout the room and he dug something pointy out of his pocket. “C’mere, Pluto…” A vicious scowl appeared on his face and he seized me, pulling me into his arms and against his chest. My teeth sank into his hand and he yelled. I squirmed, wiggled, tried to force my way out of his eyes but I was too late. Searing pain spread through my eye as he jabbed the pointy object into it. I yelped, jerking this way and that, trying to lunge out of owner’s arms. Owner’s fist closed around my throat and my cries cut off as the object pulled, taking my eye away with it. Pain overtook me once Owner placed me back on the ground and I collapsed, red liquid coating my fur.

*

                

 I didn’t die. When I awoke, the red liquid was dried into my fur, crimson on black, everywhere. Days passed and all I could do was lay around. Recover. I had to recover. I adjusted to only having one eye; it wasn’t as bad as most would think. The loss of my eye caused my hearing to heighten and sharpen. I became an excellent mouse hunter which occupied my time. Owner spent more and more time away from home, always coming home with the strange smell on his clothes and the anger from the night he took my eye. I would hide from him, under couches, under chairs, anywhere I could fit to avoid upsetting him once more.

                 

More days went by and Owner watched me more intently with each one, almost as if he was studying my patterns and habits. I rarely moved on these days; Owner had become a monster. He would lash out at me and the other animals, sometimes even his wife when he would come home from the strange smelling place. “Alcohol,” Owner’s wife had mumbled under her breath one evening, shaking her head. It was hurting my Owner. I never understood what that was – then again, I never had to time to understand anything else.

                

 It was dawn when Owner cornered me, scooped me into his arms, and carried me out to a tree. Was he going to let me claw it? Was he going to set me loose? My feeble mind pondered what was happening as Owner placed the rope around my neck. Seconds later, he released me, the noose suspending my small form in mid-air. My eyes locked on Owner; he was the last thing I saw before I slipped away. He was the last thing I thought of before my tiny heart stopped beating.

*

                 

In the spectrum of existence, there is life and death. What most others don’t know is that there is an in between. I was sent to the in between, my spirit still on earth, my body dead and broken. Owner couldn’t see me, but I was there, always at his heels, always watching. Even though he had betrayed me – even though he had taken my life – I yearned for things to be the way they used to be. I missed my owner, the one that used to love me. I watched him sleep. I watched him go about his days. I watched as the house caught fire; some neighborhood vandal grabbed my body and threw it into the flames. This distressed owner, but I’m sure that’s because he really loved and missed me, too.

                 

A few days went by. Owner and his wife found a new home and moved all of their things and the other pets in. I followed, my spirit still attached to them. I meowed and cried out, learning quickly that they could not see or hear me. I technically didn’t exist anymore. But then… it happened. One moment I was in the void, invisible to everything and everyone, and then… I wasn’t. Darkness surrounded me and my breathing cut off, my eyes sliding shut.

*

                 

When I opened my eyes, there was warmth and light surrounding me. Blinking, my eyes adjusted to my surroundings. I was in a room with Owner… but where? Examining my paw, I realized that this was not my old body. These paws were slightly larger, and upon further exploration, I noticed a patch of white on my chest that was never there before. I’d gotten a new body, but this one was injured, too. Just like my former body, this one was missing an eye.

                 

Owner’s eyes locked onto me and he went pale, just staring. He asked a question which someone answered before moving over to me. He ran his hand along the length of my back and I instinctively purred, arching my body against his hand. Oh how I’d missed my owner! He continued to pet me then, just as he was about to exit the building, I made my intentions known. Jumping off of my perch, I followed him out the door and down the streets. He stopped every so often to pet me as we made our way to his home and I followed right inside. This was my home. This was my family. I was so excited to be back.

                

 I was friendly, often trying to snuggle with my owner and show my affection, yet he avoided me. Like before, his actions were strange – perhaps he was drinking the strange smelling things again. Owner would steer clear of me at all costs, isolating himself from the rest of the household. The more Owner ignored me, the more I wanted to receive his affection. I would follow him, right at his feet, never far behind. I would pop up onto his lap and smother him with snuggled, rubbing my head along his skin.

                 

Nothing worked and I began to grow impatient, wanting nothing more than my Owner’s love. My attitude began to change and I began to resent Owner for not caring for me any longer. I became engrossed in figuring out why Owner didn’t like meat the same time Owner’s wife became fascinated by the white on my chest; it’d begun to take shape, something she called gallows, though I never knew what that was.

                 

I began to follow Owner more closely, watching him and sitting right next to him as he slept, often hovering over his face to make sure he was alright. Something was really… off. One day, everything changed.

                 

Owner had been on his way to the cellar to get something for his wife and I followed along, right at his heels, hoping he would give in and at least pet me or hold me. It had been far too long since Owner had even touched me. Owner grabbed an object with a long handle and a silver blade, dropping it toward me. I ran, my furry little legs carrying me as quickly as they could. Perching in the corner of the room, I watched as he lifted the object and swung it at his wife; it hit her head and with a sickening crack, red liquid spurted from the wound.

                 

Owner deliberated before tearing down one of the cellar walls and shoving the body inside like it was so meaningless, like she was a stranger to him. Quickly he began putting the bricks back in place, sealing the body inside. Three. Two. One. I jumped swiftly inside and hid myself as Owner placed the last few bricks in order and locked me in the tomb.

               

Several days passed and I stayed inside with Owner’s wife, nuzzling her body with my face. I never got a response. I cried out for her, to get her attention, but I never got it. Something was wrong with her. Why was she ignoring me, too? This depressed me and I lay at her feet, curled into a ball, meowing softly.

                 

Silence filled the tomb, until the day that the police officers came. I could hear voices outside of the chamber, filling the room. Owner laughed and tapped on the wall, so close to me. Scurrying up Owner’s wife’s body, I perched on her head and began to wail and cry out, my meows mixing in with yelps and screams.

                 

The wall crumbled before my eyes and I stayed in my place, more screams escaping my small form. They had found me. They had found Owner’s wife. Now they could help her. I had kept her safe until they came for her. Maybe now they could help my Owner. I leapt from my spot as they took the wife out of the tomb and marched Owner back up the stairs. I’d done my job. I’d kept my family safe.