Writing Collection

I Have a Cat

I have a cat.

I can't remember a time she was not a part of my life. She has stayed, ingrained with me throughout the whole journey I have taken, a consistent pillar of familiarity; one that I could always lean on.

I still remember how she was back then. She was bubbly and warm and always stayed by my side. She could fill my days with happiness; washing over the ones of misery with joy. She brought to me all of the feelings that people would yearn for very day. I would come back home, a pep in my step as I'd stumble along thinking of her; of all the fun times we could have together in her comforting presence. All of that childhood imagination and juvenile exhilaration filling me to the brim.

As years stretched on, my smile never weathered away. The corners of my lips remained upturned in that carefree grin as I would continue to speed down the pathway home. The chasing winds would struggle to keep up with the chiming of giggles spilling from my mouth interrupted with gasps of short breaths. My eyes would shut in childish bliss as I would imagine my hands passing through her soft fur, listening to her gentle whispers brush past my ears and another round of delight would wash over my being. Each step I took would be followed by the next, not nearly as fast as I would want them to be.

As I would see the familiar entrance nearing me, that thrill would crash into me again. I would leap into the doorframe as the animal would stand; perched on the stairway, perking up at my arrival. She would leap back at me, bouncing back with double my exhilaration. We would prance around, hand in hand, as a recount of my day would uncontrollably slip past me. She would listen attentively, cuddling into my side as contentment would rush over us.

Soon enough, days would grow long as my mind would be weighted. I'd return to my feline friend as she'd stand by the door; nonchalant and expressionless, seemingly untouched by emotion or empathy. I remember sharing that weight with her, pouring out my worries, hopes and concerns, yearning for a response of sympathy, but I would only be given back double the weight in return, paired with a swift walk out of the room. My companion's presence would be dull; all of the childlike wonder having been trampled by her paws.

Eventually, the journey back became exhausting. The wind would trail past me in waltzing gusts, joyfully prancing while I was anything but. My hands would grasp tightly onto my bag; my nails imbedded into the fabric and the corners of my lips would be weighed down by the insurmountable fear of glancing at that black fur. I would hope and pray, eyes crinkled shut into a tight line, that I wouldn't have to see those pitying glares, as my legs would continue taking step after step.

I would walk towards my house, hand sliding across the brick of the wall, mapping all the cracks and crevices hidden in the grainy surface. My hand would trace the cool handle; fingertips brushing up against the matching key in my grasp. The door would steadily open ajar to no one on the other side. I would slowly slide down to the floor, the door handle pushed into my back, sending shivers down my spine. I would feel nothing. No relief at the absent tail swishing round the corner. No dejection at my only animal friend not being present to greet me.

Years passed and the days grew into nights, as my legs would drag helplessly against the familiar pavement floor. Dreariness would tug at my features as sighs would fill the silence. I would imagine how I used to drag my clammy hands across her fur whilst listening to those once consoling whispers. All those memories had been chased away with the winds that had once been there.

I would slowly step into the house, all previous familiarity swept away with time, the atmosphere growing increasingly suffocating with every step that resounded down the stairway. Those frequent days of misery had only become more dreadful with every word that escaped her lips. Those silent, soft paws of practices elegance eventually grew into the incessant clacking of stumbling heels through the doorway. Those comforting whispers of reassurance eventually became obnoxious booming laughs dripping with superiority and pity. Eventually, she had become less like a friend I would yearn to talk to.

I have a cat. Some days I wish I didn't.