Black Cats

People aren't the only ones with personalities. Well, maybe personalities, but not animalities. I admit that I heard something that made me think of that (horsality) so I cannot claim any sort of cleverness or creativity for saying it that way, but animals most definately have their own unique way of dealing with situations that make them oh so lovable some days and oh so ready to be beaten the next.

I have a pet. Her name (at least she used to be a female. The fact that I feel conflicted calling my pet an it proves that I'm a little bit trepeditious about the whole idea of surguries to make people into the gender of their preference that is different from the one they were born into, but that's a philosophical or religious discussion for another day. I have neither the time nor the patience to debate it now. Unless someone were to call me and tell me something provocative. At which point I would probably debate) (reminder, I just said Her name) is Tuxedo, or Tux for short. She's black, excepting on her belly and paws which are white. Hence the name.

Like all cats, in the dark Tux's eyes reflect any light in a rather creepy fashion. I get the chills everytime I see the narrow slits reflected in the light like golden slashes of fear, blazing through the night. Which is odd because normally when I see the eyes she's looking up at me, and the only time she actually looks in my eyes is when she wants me to pet her, ergo she is in a compassionate mood.

Anyone who knows my cat, though, will also know that she's a demon. I'm writing this blog for the sole purpose of describing a scene that is altogether too common. Or was. Tux has gotten older of late and is not nearly as psychopathic as she once was. That being said, let me describe the scene.

It's late. Dark out. Curtains drawn, all lights inside have been turned off. I find myself downstairs, the house still, silent except for the occasional sounds of an older house settling. Thirst tickles my throat, taunting me, tempting me out of bed, upstairs to find cool relief at the hands of a loving water tap.

In near delirium, I stumble from my bed and head upstairs. I get to the top, thinking of the long and nervous road before me. My mouth's already dry, but if it could it would be dryer, as my pulse quickens. Heart beating furiously in my chest, I listen. Listen to silence. With shallow breaths I take one step. . .two. I relax, all remains still. I take two more steps when suddenly a noise! The sound of little feet! But, there's nothing to be seen, nothing except a swift shadow. Oh no, not agai. . . AAAAAUUUUGH! Gaaaa, tux attacked my feet in the dark AGAIN! I'm bleeding! Oh, the pain!

So, it actually never hurt that bad, but it always did make my pulse go like none other. You can't see a black cat very well when there's no light, and hearing the noise of impending pain, even if it won't be that bad, is always frightening. If I ever have a heart attack, let Tux run at me when I'm not looking, and my heart will jolt back into submission.

And that's all I have to say about that.