Crazy Cat Lady

I am not crazy. 

But I think the cat is winking at me. 

The first time it was accidental, I’m pretty sure. I was sitting at my kitchen table eating a dinner of chicken and pasta, screw calorie counting, and she ambled around the corner like she has a habit of doing. 

“Well, I read today’s newspaper,” I said aloud, conversationally, because when you live alone it’s either talk to yourself or talk to the pet. Or the fruit bowl. 

“It was ridiculous. So much s**t happening in the world and they put some celebrity on the cover? God.”

I would have gone on, but it was then that the cat winked at me, and stared at me. Right into my soul. An instant later, she whisked away. 

When my brother came over that evening, I told him about it. 

“How long have you had it?” he asked, studying the scrabble board. He loved scrabble, but it bored me. Words randomly pieced together like that didn’t mean anything. Besides, I always won. 

“I got her one month ago, after I moved in,” I said. “Kristina said I should have a pet to look after, to learn responsibility. Not a dog, though.” She probably figured in my hands, it would be dead within the week.

My brother looked over at the cat stretched out on the couch. “Well you know I think all cats are weird. And creepy.” I like that my brother doesn’t laugh at the weird stuff I do, like share that my cat winked at me. But then, he’s used to it by now. 

And then it happened again! This time when I came home from the library and plunked down my pile of new reading material. Her green eyes surveyed the titles and then she looked straight up at me and winked deliberately, and slowly sauntered off. I looked down at the book at the top of the pile: Fifty Shades of Grey. 

“I usually never read stuff like this!” I yelled down the hallway after her. “People say it’s actually good!” 

So I told Kristina, my therapist, about my cat. “I have to tell you something. I think my cat is winking at me.”

Kristina looked up at me. Her practiced expression gave away nothing, but she was probably wondering how to break it to me that cats aren’t sentient beings. 

“She’s winking at you?”

“Yes. Twice now.”

“Like, blinking?”

Hah. “No, one eye!”

“Care to demonstrate?”

Oh my gosh. I demonstrated. I winked at her. Twice. 

“And she understands stuff. She only winked at me when I brought home an embarrassing book,” I blurted out. “She’s really smart.”

“What’s your cat’s name?” she asked a little too nicely. 

“I didn’t name her.” I realized in that moment how weird that was. And Kristina’s expression still did nothing for me. She jotted something down in her notebook and asked about my brother.

At the end, Kristina smiled and stood like she always does, but on my way out she threw out one last casual question. “And you’re still taking your meds?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

On my drive home I belatedly remembered that I had not, in fact, taken anything that day. I hadn’t been able to find the bottle. At home I searched high and low, but didn’t find a thing. 

“Well, this is great. Excellent. I’ve been so good about taking them. Now I’ll have to tell Kristina, right after my crazy cat lady story, and you know she’ll think this is just super.” I frowned at my cat, who had been shadowing me in my zealous search around the small apartment.

“You can’t understand what I’m saying. You’re a cat. Something I got to take care of, not something to make me even more crazy.” The cat gazed up at me, but she didn’t wink this time. Instead, her mouth opened. 

“Are you babbling on and on about those little blue balls? Oh, those were wonderful. Yes. Delicious. Any chance you have more of those?”

I’m not crazy, my cat is. 

Reviews

[Caroline Hart]

Another great piece of writing! And she is definitely not crazy, cats secretly dominate the world, we are just slow to realise that! Your writing style is easy to follow and so enjoyable to read. Would love to read more pieces from you! :) Thanks for sharing!