The Boy Who Talks To Cats

Ghost Boy

"I don't really dwell on the idea of death much, I'm too young to comprehend death. Is it good, bad? Or just is? I don't have time to think about what it is. There are millions of people who know everything about death and I'm not one of them." Emrys said firmly, he truly didn't care to know about what was beyond today.

He barely cared about what had happened the day before. He had a concept of time, and surely if he tried hard enough, he would be really good at it too. In his mind time just made people dwell on the past or future. He didn't want to be that person, so slowly, he just let time go. The present did him many more favors than the past and future ever could.

"Millions of people understand death?" The cat shook his head, swaying his whiskers side-to-side, "My apologies, but not even cats understand death. Unlike humans we don't really have the philosophical instinct to dwell on it. We focus on hunt, sleep, and shelter. You're a weird exception to this rule. You don't think about it alike to us cats. But just because all those other philosophical gags think about death, doesn't mean they understand it." The cat licked his paw, grooming himself with his eyes delicately closed. Cats also didn't seem to care about time too much. They cared about hunt, sleep, and shelter, just as he said. This is why Emrys enjoyed cats- they were easy going. He could've talked to many other creatures, but cats were what he preferred.

If he wanted to talk to other creatures. It would be dogs mostly. Some dogs were nice to talk to, it really depended on which ones. Smaller dogs were usually more proper and had more brains. Super large breeds were a little dumb and usually were fighting douche bags who became teddy-bears around their owners. Besides size, breed always affected dogs too. Cats weren't like that though, there was less categories.

Strays had more trust issues and had a lot more slang. Normally these were brown cats or gray cats. Orange cats were usually less likely to be strays, if they were they were usually a little... intellectually challenged. Normally falling for every trap people would set up. Strays that were other colors were usually less into using slang, and survived the streets with strategy. Emrys enjoyed those type of cats. Outdoor cats who did have owners were usually rather prestigious. Most of them spoiled, few had bad owners. They lived a nice life. It wasn't always easy for them, but they all seemed appreciative that they weren't street cats. These cats normally were the closest to speaking the way humans do. Little slang, proper grammar, and talked about human topics.

Emrys didn't reply to the cat for a long while, it actually looked like he was thinking. Normally you would look at him and there wouldn't be a thought behind those eyes. Though not now.

"No I don't think I meant it like how you're saying Mr. Cat, I meant the millions who have died. They must know everything about death considering they have experienced it. Speaking of Mr. Cat, Mr. Cat is a bad name. Not bad- just boring."

Emrys waited for agreement, fixing his posture and stature.

"Mr. Cat is a bad name, it lacks substance and meaning to it. I don't understand boring. Is it the same as fish without shrimp?" The cat tilted his head and patted his tail down on the half-wall made of brick. Letting it swig to the side of his body and laying it down, so half of it fell.

Cats had sayings the people don't use. How they live and their life style causes these changes. Their history, although not as thorough as humans, influences their language too.

"May you elaborate on that? Cat-speak I'm rather fluent in, but I obviously don't speak it natively. I'm not familiar with every saying. I would say I understand cats more than I do humans- Ever since the incident I could hear cats."

Emrys nodded. The incident. The incident where he had been hit by a train and lost his hearing. Since then something happened to where he could talk to creatures- and he just happened to like speaking with cats.