O darling, that darn cat, again.

It sat in front of the window, looking as if every day was another burden, another fight, another failure. O, how he hated it, that cat. He’d make it go away. Yes, darling, he’d make that darn cat, with its big beseeching eyes go away.

He stepped away from the kitchen table, where he’d been setting up breakfast for his wife and himself. It was their 50th anniversary, and he should be damned to let their day be ruined by that terrible little creature. His wife had always had a soft spot for the thing: she would feed it with his favorite salami, pet it when they intended to watch a crime thriller, and would be distracted when she ought to enjoy time with him. He hated the animal, and he was not going to let it bring its ruinous existence into their lives for another day.

He took three big determined steps out of their kitchen into the living room and threw open the door to their garden. Now he stood across his tiny nemesis, whose only ambition seemed to be to meow pathetically and try to sneak into his home. But oh darling, he would not have it. He kicked at the cat to keep it from coming in. “Sweetheart, how nice of you to make us breakfast”, he heard his wife singsong, “but o, where are you now? Come let us eat together”. He stared at the small creature at his feet, doing its best to escape his violent kicks. “Coming darling, I’m on my way!” he responded, still fixated on the cat trying to make its way in. He stopped and glared at the cat. He desperately wanted to get rid of it, but even more, he wanted to get back to his wife. So, as he stood staring at the cat, something was off. Suddenly, he felt dizzy, his legs began to shake and his skin itched terribly. And then…

“O, darling” he exclaimed, but the only thing his opponent could hear was a pathetic little meow. He was sitting on the floor, looking up at… himself?! This couldn’t be, o, darling, any day but today. The man, he, was standing above, looking down at him. Oh, that darn cat, how dare it do so. The door slowly started to close in front of his eyes, but he could do nothing, he was helplessly dependent on the generosity his opponent was lacking. Every attempt to enter his home, to join his wife in the kitchen, was stopped, brought to failure by big feet, his feet, kicking after him. And then the glass door was closed, and he found himself looking at the reflection of the little, pathetic cat.

He ran around the house, just in time to watch the cat, no the man, no the cat in his body, kissing his wife tenderly on the forehead. Loud thunder rumbled as he watched the creature say something that made his wife laugh heartily. Rain was pouring down, drenching his wretched figure. He should have moved away from the window, and needed to find shelter, but he wouldn’t. He kept sitting there, in front of the window, watching his wife having a splendid time with the creature that inhabited not only his body but also his home.

He had no idea for how long he had been sitting there, barely noticing when the sun began to set, yet angrily meowed at the delivery man when a truck filled with fries, pizza, burgers, maties and heaps of cake, and other goods arrived. They would have a feast: with the food he longed to have, the food he had pre-ordered just this morning to arrive at exactly 8 pm. O, darling, was he hungry. And so, he spent his evening looking at a seemingly happy couple, enjoying life in ways he found himself excluded from.

After what felt like an eternity of them sitting on the living room couch, where they had moved once the food had arrived, watching movie after movie, they got up to move to bed. He watched as the creature persuaded his wife, still oblivious to her love´s suffering, to leave the cleaning for tomorrow. With a hunger that grew by the minute, he sat outside, in his garden, looking at left-over food, remnants of an evening that could’ve, should’ve been perfect.

Now that the creature had lured his wife to bed, he felt how drenched he was. The cold wind blew and made him shiver. He should stop looming in front of this window; he should find food and shelter. O, darling, how he longed for his warm bed, a full stomach, and the gentle caress of his wife’s fingers in his hair.

Slowly, he turned away from his home, which seemed infinitely more homely now that he was no longer an inhabitant.

He walked down the dark street, jumping out of a car’s way at the last second, which must not have seen him. Shadows loomed around every corner, and darkness seemed to swallow any hope left in his tiny bones. He felt weak and exhausted, he wanted to rest, but an unrelenting hunger kept him awake. He came across a restaurant, o, darling; yes, they should have some food left for him. Driven by hope, he scurried around the corner to the back door. O, darling, a man with a twirled-up beard opened the door just in time to discover him looking up with imploring eyes. But the man was unfathomed by his helpless appearance and shooed him away with wild gestures. He hurried around a corner and hid until the man was out of sight. Once the air seemed clear, he snuck back around the corner to the trash cans. Climbing over the fence that shielded them from prying a meal. But no, oh darling, no! It stank so horrendously that he almost tumbled down into his doom, for he had not thought of how to get back out of the trash can. He couldn’t do it. It was beneath him to eat food that looked and smelled so disgusting.

And so he walked on, sobered by the shock of the filth, searching for shelter.

Just when he feared his legs would give out, a meow rang through the darkness, then another and another. O, darling, he needed to find shelter in spite of these dodgy streets. Feeling the energy of yet another hopeful chance surge through his weak little body, he forced his legs to move swiftly toward the sound. He went around the corner of a dark alley, and then they were there. Sitting heaps of fur, bundles of meows, places of joy. O, darling, he felt so relieved. And they had food; he watched how little pieces of meat were passed around, divided evenly between all. The smell of grilled fish made his nostrils flare, and him step out of the shadows to join the party.

Everything went quiet, then the first hiss. The group of cats turned their heads toward him. This was followed by hisses from all directions. Oh, darling, he found himself surrounded by evil-looking tiny faces, devilish intentions glooming behind their yellow eyes. He had to run, he wished to escape, but there was no way out; every exit was blocked by another creature. Then, when they could hardly get any closer, an opening, a way out. They started to stretch out their claws after him, and, o, darling, did he run.

He ran through the dark night, past houses as the last lights of the city subsided, past dark alleys, the last cars driving over the lonely streets. He ran until he reached his home turf again.

He spent the rest of the night scared to close his eyes, feeling some unknown danger looming in the darkness, waiting for a moment of weakness.

The sun rose. He jumped back as he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the glass door to his living room. He looked disheveled: his fur was dirty, knots had formed clumps mixed with the dust and mud of the night, and he found multiple cuts still oozing blood. He sneezed, but the only sound that passed his lips was a meek meow.

“Honey, where did I put my white shirt?” he heard the impostor say in his voice. “Why, sweetheart, in the wardrobe, of course,” the gentle voice of his wife answered, not questioning the new pet name. She had been his darling since their wedding day 50 years ago and yet did not question the change. He angrily meowed at his wife standing in the living room on the other side of the door. She turned in his direction, and her face lit up “Oh, sweetheart, it’s back, please do bring me some of the salami that arrived yesterday” “No, honey, leave it. If you spoil it so, it will only continue to pester us when we find ourselves occupied otherwise!” the devilish being replied. He watched his wife’s face drop, but she nodded in understanding and didn’t press her demand any further.

He felt his stomach grumble, oh, darling he felt as if he might just starve to death if he didn’t get his hands, no, his paws, on food fast.

He watched as another food truck arrived, and instead of hissing menacingly at the delivery man as he had done the day before, he ran up to him, sneaking sweetly around his legs, nestling his head against the man’s skin with quiet pleads to reach the man’s ears as desperate meows. He looked up with big, begging eyes, but the man shook him off and continued to carry the massive order to the house, where it was readily welcomed by that damned creature. O, darling, how he hated it.

And so he spent another day watching the creature feed and cherish itself, of what he wished to only get a tiny part. His hunger grew exponentially as he observed even the slightest movement made on the other side of the glass door.

So at night, when his wife, now feeling terribly disturbed by all the leftover food, carried bag after bag, filled with delicious goods, to the street for the garbage truck to pick up the following day, he swallowed with pride. He waited until she returned to the house and crept up to the bags. O, darling, he thought, as he tore open one of the bags only to be greeted by maties. O, darling, o, darling, and he devoured it, filled with happiness from the tasty, grilled fish.

But he did not feel well afterward. He began to puke violently and felt terribly unwell. Every time he let food out of his body, he felt closer to his end. His body started feeling even weaker than his meek figure had when nearly starved. He felt something poisonous flowing through his blood. He should fight, he should keep trying to not give up after this hurdle. But the weight of the dark world pressed down on him, and relief could be so easily found if he would only let go.

With a last weak inhale, he thought of his darling wife, doomed to live the rest of her life oblivious to her love’s fate. If only he had cared more when it mattered. If only he had tried. But oh, darling, now it was too late, as his eyes closed and he exhaled for the last time in eternity. O, darling, maybe his fate could have been different. If only…