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[personal profile] tyellas
Augh. The night before last, a dream about my dead cat - that I had raised her from the dead with inappropriate bad-karma necromancy, for a briefly allotted time. In the dream, I alternated between cuddling her frantically and worrying about dispersing the gelatinous blood fetish-glob that was part of the spell. In the morning, I had the question: why doesn't more horror fiction focus on dead pets?

Then, last night, I got home at twilight. Unheralded, my neighbor's beautiful Birman cat appeared at my ankles. I've known this cat for a long time, and in his kittenish younger days, he would sometimes jump into my car with me. That night, he slipped past me as I opened the door and went into my house. Softly, pale in the falling dark, he explored every corner, drifting up onto furniture, suddenly appearing in the room where I was, turning away from an open outside door to explore some more. Being petted was secondary to exploring this tantalizing new space. Just as suddenly, it was time to leave.
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tyellas

December 2012

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