Words
Friend hasn't moved since Friday night. Not that I know what "Friday" is; it's just something I heard him say while cleaning my litterbox. Then, when he was done, he fell over, right on his back. The sound of him crashing to the ground was loud enough to make me jump. And there he's been ever since.
When was that a night ago? You'll have to excuse me; time has never been a good subject for me. I judge the passage of time by how often friend adds dry kibble to my dish, but he hasn't done that lately. He just lays there on his back, eyes wide open, looking at the ceiling with a fierce intensity. I know this look well. I've found myself focused on a wall or the ceiling any number of times, convinced that something would dash out from the shadows. But nothing ever does. A wall is a wall, and a ceiling is a ceiling; even still, I find myself lost in them, convinced there is more.
Friend ignores me no matter how loud I meow or how much I bat his face with my paws. Even crawling onto his chest and rubbing my face in his while nervously purring does nothing. I've woken friend up doing this any number of times. But this time, nothing. No whisking me away or grabbing me and forcing me to cuddle. He just refuses to break his gaze on the ceiling. It's like he's trapped by it. That's when I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time.
A deep sadness weld up inside me. The same sadness I had felt when I was kept in a cage with others like me in cages all around me. That's where I met friend. He approached and stuck his finger in my cage. I licked it; it was so salty and tasty compared to the food I was given there, making me purr. Friend took me here right after that. I don't know how long ago that was; as I said, time is not my strong suit, but now, looking at him sprawled out on the living room floor, those memories of being in that cage came back to me all at once like I was being washed away into a bottomless black ocean. Lost in my sea of sadness, all I could do was yowl. Endlessly, I yowled. But Friend didn't move. Nothing changed except for my appetite.
Friend had fed me just before he'd changed the litter box and fallen over, but by now, there was not a spec of kibble left in my bowl. I resorted to licking up those odd dry stains on the kitchen floor. I even gobbled up all the crumbs that had fallen into the nooks and crannies of our tiny home. I even caught and ate a spider as it squirmed across the bathroom floor, but now there was nothing. Out of desperation to snap my friend out of his staring stupor, I sunk my sharp fangs into his soft cheek, but he didn't even flinch. Then, a sublime taste filled my palette. It was wet and thick. It tasted better than the other scraps Friend had thrown my way. I'll admit, I couldn't stop myself. Not only did the thick red liquid taste good, but so did the strips of flesh I tore off and chewed.
I didn't stop with those fat cheeks of friend. His ears and nose had a delightful crunch, and his lips, which had given me plenty of wet kisses in the past, made me purr with every bite. I gorged myself, and soon, my coat was covered in a gory, delicious mess. As I cleaned myself, I looked at friend. Despite the lack of facial features, his gaze remained the same. Perhaps, I thought as I jumped onto his chest, I had to do more to stop that incessant staring. After all, there had been times when a "psst," "psst," "psst" didn't stop me from looking into the void of nothing. Sometimes, friend would have to throw a shoe or even pick me up to snap me back to the waking world. Why not do the same? Why not eat those big brown eyes of his? After all, what are friends for?