The Fourteen Years I Spent as a Cat

Chapter 2: Canned food and that four eyes.

It didn’t end up raining that night.

The next day it started to clear up, and the crowds passing by seemed to be even more energetic.

The number of people walking by also seemed to have increased, and as a result the people who were calling out for customers to come in was also louder.

From what the kids, who weren’t wearing their bags, were saying, today was a holiday and I let out a big yawn.

The humid air also seems to have been swept away, and the newfound warmth was quite comfortable.

Perhaps it was because there were more strange people in the holidays, the people that would sometimes notice me would leave behind the leftovers from their lunchbox or some bread etc. for me. Since I was starting to get hungry anyway, once I’ve made sure that they were gone, I would eat it up gratefully.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t anything as delicious as what the lady brought me yesterday.

Unable to comment too much on such the luxury, I finished all the food that had been given to me in the end.

Perhaps that lady had been busy, but it was only when evening approached that she finally came bringing over some fish meat. Even once evening came, the number of people walking past didn’t seem to lessen one bit.

“Hey, how’re you.”

As I was taking a nap among the rubbish bags, I heard a familiar voice.

I lift my head up to look towards the street, and standing there was the four eyes from yesterday. In his hand was a delicious looking can, and he slowly approached me whilst looking right at me.

Just what is this guy thinking?

Maybe he’s just a weirdo? I answer myself as I stare threateningly at the man, that if he came any closer I would bite him.

The man stops, and scratches his head, looking troubled.

“Ah man, are you that cautious?”

Yes, it’s decades too early for you to try to con me, young one.

I said to the man. Replying with, “Don’t growl. I’ll give you something nice.”, he opens the lid of the can bewildered.

I smell the same delicious scent as yesterday, and I poke my face out a little. The man slowly places the can down in front of me, and then backs away as if to provide some distance.

Is he being considerate? Perhaps, he’s doing that to try to say, “I won’t hurt you.”

How ridiculous. There’s no way I can trust that.

I approach the can, as cautious as ever, and glared at the man every now and then to keep him away as I ate. Eating like this is as rude as the food in the can is delicious.