Glitchinthematrix


They're EVERYWHERE I tell you.

They’re EVERYWHERE I tell you.

This morning, when I stepped out the front door on my way to class, I had just pulled the door shut behind me when I happened to glance to my left where a flight of stairs leads up to the apartments on the second floor. There, staring back at me, was a black cat.

I have a bit of a history of encountering black cats on staircases- the most notable incident happening in Dodge City, KS when I was four years old traveling cross country with my dad. We had stopped at a motel for the night and, after being cooped up in the cab if a moving truck all day, I wanted to run up the stairs to the second floor. My reasons for wanting to do this escape me- except perhaps because I wanted to get up high and see the view from the balcony. I never did get to see it: I made it as far as the first landing where I encountered a sudden pair of glowing eyes that appeared out of a lump of shadows. I let out a blood curdling four-year-old’s scream which had the magical property of turning the shadow into a black cat, which made a heroic Butch-Cassidy-and-the-Sundance-Kid leap from the staircase landing onto the parking lot below before proceeded to get the hell out of Dodge.

In spite of this apparent childhood trauma, I’ve been very fond of black cats ever since. As a matter of fact, when I saw the black cat on the staircase this morning I momentarily thought that my current fur-baby, Tober, had slipped out the door along with me and was making a break for it. The cat on the stairs looked exactly like him. I unlocked the door and poked my head back inside the living room. Tober was lounging on the carpet by the futon and looked up with the universal expression that says: “Back already? Did you forget something?”

Nope. Not Tober.

I pulled the door shut again, but when I looked back at the staircase the second cat was gone, perhaps back to Dodge City.

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~ by Gwydhar Gebien on May 8, 2014.

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