Why is it that my only friend is you?

I cradled the fluffy cat in my arms. Her soft body rubbing against my cotton sweater. Rocking her back and forth I protected her. She was my baby, she was my friend, she was my life.

What do I do to make more?

I looked at the cat’s face. Beautiful. Round. Her precious eyes staring into mine with nothing other than kindness, not a peck of judgement hidden behind her stare. Why people couldn’t be as kind, I never knew.

Why won’t people be my friend?

I held the cat up above my head, her sweet little purr louder as she got close to my ears. I held her up, holding her little chest softly. Her little legs dangling. She was the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Why am I so lonely?

I set the cat on the bed as she gently kneaded my sheets and lay down. I watched her as she fell asleep. Softly I patted her spine and left the room. As quiet and careful as I could be, I walked down to the basement where she was waiting. The girl whimpered, tears staining her face, her long blonde hair messy. She tried to scoot away but her bindings held her quick. I walked up to her, smiling.

Oh, I was lonely, but not for long.

🩵

Every day I’m out in the fields, searching for prey. Today I spent the morning crouched over a hole, scarcely breathing. Can they smell me, the way I can smell them? The scent fills my nostrils and his neck is in my mouth before I realize it. I shake and he thrashes; he’s gone in an instant. I munch on this one for awhile; his meat isn’t what the boy deserves. Too old, too many bones; the boy needs choicer cuts than this. This was good exercise. I worked for my breakfast. I can’t climb trees as well as I used to, but I’m up the trunk of this one quick enough. I make my way to the center of the branch and survey my options. Hmm. Right here in the tree are some decent opportunities. The squirrel escapes into his hole before I grab him; maybe he can scent better than the mole. I make some futile grabs into the tree, but he’s tucked safely away in there, and I only succeed in dislodging some acorns. The bird two branches above me is tempting. The flyers are high risk, low reward. Easy to break a leg or end up in a thorn bush. Still, the robin is so complacent and plump. I crash through the branch and knock him flailing to the ground. He’s finished in two bites. A ray of sun beckons me. I stretch out and yawn, curling up on a warm patch of grass. I am utterly safe to sleep in the open here. I am the ultimate predator; no one preys on me. When I wake from peaceful dreams, I find a pool of rainwater to lap. The boy will be home from school soon, and needs a gift to show what he means to me. I take some time and groom myself carefully, inspecting every inch. If I'm to perform at my peak, I must look my best. A dog in the yard next door tests my patience. I ignore her barks as long as credibility allows, then issue a few discreet hisses. She's soon collected safely indoors and I return to my hunt. There it is. Tufts of gray fur moving over the too long grass. A rabbit would be perfect for the boy, and would rid the world of one more of my hated enemy. So blithe and unbothered, yet beloved: rabbits infuriate me. I flatten out, practically invisible. The rabbit draws close, closer. I leap, too soon, giving time for the rabbit to see me and reverse course. Not fast enough. With a few bonds I'm on top of the rabbit, and the ultra high pitched wails are silent. This meat is a gift, not a meal. The boy has arrived from school, and I trot to him, bearing the carcass in my strong jaws. "Mittens? Again?" He turns to his mother and buries his head in her dress. The woman speaks to me. "Now Mittens, we don't need you doing that. Let go of that bunny and get in the house." I do as ordered, surrendering in humiliation and retreating to the laundry room. An entire day wasted. My talents are not appreciated. "Hey Mittens?" The boy comes in and picks me up. "You're a good kitty. Don't kill anymore bunnies. You're my kitty. That's a good kitty." I purr, despite myself, as he rubs under my chin. At the end of the day, I am a good kitty.

The life of a cat isn’t always easy. Humans think we lounge around all day, waiting to be fed, disappear, and sleep. We’re no real bother to them, so they assume we have it easy.

That’s simply not true.

I’ve been a stray, sulking around crowded streets hoping for crumbs. I’ve been left in the wild, to fend for myself and my siblings, climbing trees and chasing mice to our hearts’ content.

But I’ve also been a beloved pet to the richest family in Japan, having my every need and desire met. I was pampered, my fur the silkiest it had ever been. I dined on caviar and fresh tuna and washed it down with the thickest cream.

But still. Nothing in my three lives so far could have prepared me for the feeling when Ryko-chan picks me up.

“I will name you Chichiro!” She declares. “And you will come home with me and I will love you forever!”

Her parents laugh behind her, happiness painted across their faces as they dote upon their daughter. I’ve become very good at reading human emotions.

A warm feeling like a ball of sunshine spreads from my chest throughout my body. As I look into Ryko-chan’s wide eyes, I know I will do anything to make this little girl happy.

This will be my best life yet. I hope it’s a long one.

My memory mostly is of their cat, Tinkerbell. Tinkerbell was fat and bad-tempered. She disliked children and probably for good reason. She spent most of her time sleeping in places that nobody could reach. On the tops of high cabinets in rooms that seemed to have the least foottraffic although in a family with that many children there wasnt really a room like that. There was the living room, which Mrs X called the “parlour” in a half joking way like she was a character in a novel about fancy people in the 1900s. She didnt like anyone going in there because she liked it to be kept “nice” in case there was company. Sometimes Caroline, Gretchen, and i would sneak in there. We’d start out sitting on the blue velvet couch and armchair and chat like actual grownup ladies, but then we’d eventually take the cushions off the couch (silver brocade) and end up lolling on the floor. Tinkerbell always tried to get in and sometimes Caroline would let her and she would immediately jump up onto a white painted cabinet holding all the fine china. The cabinet would shudder and the china would rattle under her weight.

'Mew...' a small voice came from behind a stack of boxes.

Aji heard it and peeked around the boxes. A small kitten shivered there. Aji gasped at seeing it and carefully reached down.

The kitten saw her hand and hissed before bating at it. It's sharp claws cut through Aji's skin.

"Ow..." She pulled away.

The kitten pressed itself to one of the boxes with its back arched. Aji stared into its eyes. The kitten slowly lowered its back and smoothed out its fur over time. Aji reached forward slowly again, and this time the kitten touched its nose to her hand then purred and twirled around it.

Aji grabbed the kitten carefully and lifted it above her head. The setting sun shone on the cat's pure black fur. Aji smiled at it. The kitten continued purring.

Little did Aji know, this kitten...its a person...who got a mask...from a bigger cat...who promised that the mask...would help him get her attention.

It's hard to explain the plot of this movie😂 A Whisker Away is a good anime movie... But it's really hard to explain the beginning scenes when the main character girl gets a mask to turn her into a cat...

Check this movie out... (Its so good!)

She walks through the door. Her head held high.

“Me-ow,” she grins, licking her lips. “Willow?” I run over and pick her up. “There’s blood on you- are you okay?”

“Me-ow.” She kicks, I sit her down. She looks at me with devilish green eyes, the black kitten trots to the door and looks over her shoulder as if she’ll lead me to something.

“Are you bringing me somewhere?” I follow. “Where are we going? What happened?”

I put the bowl of milk beside her tray in the kitchen and follow her out. I got her a week ago, just a small thing.

She stops- sniffing a puddle on the dark pavement, she licks it. Then continues walking. I step through it, cursing myself as the cold liquid soaks into my jeans. I look down, examining the damage.

A crimson stain has settled into the cloth. I jump back, my breath hitching. I glance up, and hurry to follow the kitten as she disappears down the alleyway where the apartment complexes’ garbage is collected on Fridays.

“Willow-“ I call, breaking into a run.

Only to stop- When I see… What’s on the ground. When I see who is on the ground.

Dozens of cats swarm a young man’s body, lapping at the blood that seeps from his wounds. They hiss at me, prowling around.

“Oh. My. God.”

After legging it out of practice, I narrowly avoided disaster on the bus home. With every bump and turn I was whacked by some tall guy’s obnoxious guitar case, each jab setting off whatever crazy fizzling feeling had made the beakers explode in chemistry. I got off two stops early because the itching under my skin had become unbearable and it felt like I was about to implode. And I’m not having THAT in my obituary!

“Sarah Michaels, promising 15 year old and local rising star, explodes on e45 bus, covering commuters in bodily goo.” No thanks.

I hoped the fresh air would help, and it did, but the moment I closed the front door, the burning feeling was back.

I rushed up to my room, ignoring mum’s shouted inquisition about my day. Heading straight for my bedside table, I picked up the cursed book and started scanning the pages for anything that might explain what the hell was going on with me.

The more confusing diagrams and ancient words I read the more my mind started to panic, and suddenly my whole body was glowing with some sort of insane light.

I was trying to get it under control, when a startled sound from behind made me spin around. I barely managed to catch a glimpse of Matt, standing there with his headphones on and his homework outstretched in surrender, before the light burst out of me.

I was thrown back, and by the time I peeled myself off my bed, he’d vanished. And in his place was a small grey cat… with headphones hanging from its neck.

The day we released my sweet Claire Was the day my world shattered We released one hundred and thirty four balloons into the sky One for each day of her precious life, And as they lowered her tiny casket into the ground I couldn’t even see it because of all the tears in my eyes

I slept at the gravesite that night And stumbled home the next morning, A mess of grass stains and mud I threw myself on my bed and stared into her empty crib As if hoping she would somehow reappear My husband brought soup and warm tea That grew cold and untouched on the nightstand

Days went by and it seemed the world only grew more dim without Claire’s light I would spend all day pouring over her pictures Remember what it was like to hold her tiny hand Or the way she would glow when she smiled And how I told her I would never let anything bad happen to her But failed

One morning, when the darkness was eating me particularly badly I contemplated walking down to the train tracks And just sitting there, hoping something would happen I opened the front door of the house, ready to take that step When I heard a soft purr beneath my feet

A kitten with velvet gray fur No collar, no home; rubbing against my leg My heart swelled with sympathy for the poor thing So I lifted her up into my arms She had the most daring button nose, Pink ears that twitched in the wind And the same dark, glowing eyes as my sweet Claire.

I stare into her big, green eyes. Her soft fur in my hands as I lift her up. Her pointy ears, her little nose and her long whiskers on her cute little face. Her fur is grey and her nose pink. She is, of course, a cat. A beautiful, adorable, fluffy cat.

My cat.

sky plastered with paint strokes light baby blue the color of the ocean and the crashing waves coral the color of peach and the faint blush on your cheeks clouds of mist streaming like the soft rain tattering on the roof peaceful through the open window two creating something new mixing to create a galaxy of hearts

gazing into your eyes olive green the color of the deepest woods, of adventure and curiosity, sprinting and climbing but also hazel brown the color of the soft wood of the docks leading to the lake the lake we observed as we confessed, feelings twirling and dancing on our tongues the two colors swirling together, like coffee and creamer two creating something new mixing to create a galaxy of hearts