As I glance at my owner, he stares back at me in shock as if I just regurgitated a whole mouse. Seriously? Has he never seen a talking African cat before? I mean, he snatched me from my former owner's yard without even properly introducing himself. If he had, he would've realized he'd taken me from the town's most powerful Voodoo witch.

"Why don't you stop gawking and finish your work? This paper is due in the morning," I say while trying to clean my paw. Suddenly, my owner stands up, trembling with fear and says, "Wait, you talk? I don't understand. Why do you have an African accent? Did someone drug me?"

"Well, darling, you catnapped me. It's not my fault you didn't introduce yourself. I go where the scratches are. Are you going to feed me or keep staring at me like I'm a circus act? I'm famished," I retort, starting to get irritated.

"Uh, yes, I have some cat food. Do you prefer chicken or fish? Wait, why am I asking the cat what he wants? I must be dreaming," my owner mutters, bewildered.