I Can't See My Paws

Part 1

Where is it?

Where'd it go?

I swear I left it here, I'm positive I did.

But where is it?

I sniff.

Where is the scent?

I turn my head.

I sniff.

There's a scent!

Following it is quite easy.

But is it what I'm looking for?

I sniff.

No.

No no no no no.

That's not my prey.

That's the-

That's a-

"CAR!"

I sit up abruptly, the word ripped from my throat. Panic was still flooding my veins, throbbing like an open wound.

Reality slowly came back.

There was my window, with the Sage green curtains.

There was my closet, messy and full of clothes and trinkets.

There was my desk, with my sketchbook, laptop, and spider plant arranged on top.

And there was Acorn.

Sitting at the end of my bed, staring at me with worried eyes, was a cat.

His fur was the most gorgeous sandy color, and his ears were a brown-bear brown, the same as his eyes.

"Hey, Acorn." 

The eyes seemed to fill with relief, and he mewed his raspy mew. It always sounded like he had a sore throat, which I thought was adorable.

I untangled myself from my bedsheets, and get up from bed. The spot where I was laying was damp with sweat when I felt it, and my pajama shirt— which had a cartoon picture of a giraffe hanging with a noose around it's neck, with the caption: "hang in there!" —was the same way.

I quickly changed out of my pajamas and into some brown cargo pants and a baggy sweater the color of my curtains. The strap of my black tank top was showing because the neckline of the sweater was wide, which bothered me, but not that much.

I adjusted the collar to cover my shoulder before turning to look at Acorn, who was sprawled across my bed, kneading his paws in the air.

"Oh my sweet little Acorn, C'mere..." 

I scooped him up and cradled him like a newborn baby, whispering in his brown ears about how special and adorable he was.

He mewed again, purring his appreciation.

Acorn still bundled in my arms, I opened the door to my room and stepped into the hallway, almost running into my little brother, who was sprinting down the hall to the stairs.

"Brenner!"

He pounded down all twelve stairs in record time, and I rushed after him, slower because of the cat in my arms, but fast all the same.

"Brenner, you almost made me drop Acorn—"

"His name is George."

"Since when, 30 seconds ago?"

Brenner stuck his tongue out at me. 

Acorn is technically Brenner's cat, since he found him in a bush at the playground, so he was in charge of naming him. At first it was Mittens. Then Mike. Then catsper. It's been changing ever since we got him, so I decided just to call him Acorn.