If my sassy my cat ever finds a way to talk, I’m finished. No explanation, no defense I’ll just quietly pack my things and leave the country because the amount of things she has seen and silently endured is enough to ruin me. You see, we live like housemates. She sees everything, hears everything, and I know for a fact that if she had a voice, she would drag me without mercy.
Let’s start with the dancing. I know I cannot dance, but it does not stop me from trying at least when I am alone in my room and my favorite song comes on. There’s something about dancing horribly that’s soul-recharging. The issue is, though, that my cat gazes at me. She’ll be lying in the corner, peaceful-looking, until I bust out the embarrassing moves, at which point she sits up slowly, like it’s live comedy. Her eyes say, I judge you so hard, even more than humans ever will. Sometimes she’ll bat her eyes languidly or flick her tail like you’re bothering her, and let’s face it, you are, but at the same time she’ll be expressing in a subtle and mysterious manner, Please, you’ve more than embarrassed us both. If she were able to speak, I know the first thing she would do is try to imitate my awkward pop dance of joy and then post a clip on the internet.
Then there’s the heartbreak situation. I’ve told everyone my friends, my group chats, even myself that I’m over my ex. Fully healed. Strong woman. No tears. But sassy knows the truth. She’s been there when I open Instagram and search his name just to check. She’s seen me go through the comments, zoom in on pictures, and even raise one eyebrow when I see a new girl beside him. She’s also witnessed the occasional sigh, the silent shake of my head, and once just once a quiet Hmm, so you’ve moved on. If she ever spills that part, I’m finished. No one will believe anything I say again.
But the worst one? The baby voice. The way I talk to her behind closed doors would ruin my serious adult reputation completely. When it’s just the two of us, I switch into full baby mode. I call her things like my sweet fluff” and “mumcy’s tiny sugar puff. I sing to her. I even quiz her with such existential questions as, “Do you think I am a good person?. But when friends visit, I pretend like she’s just a normal pet. Oh right, that’s my cat, I’ll say, in a not so cool a way, like I don’t kiss her every single night before bed. And I can see she knows I’m faking it. The way she looks at me when there is someone around is just so two faced. If she ever learns how to talk, I swear the first thing you’re going to hear out of that punk is, Y’all wanna hear how she tucked me in and kissed my little paw last night?
Honestly, if sassy could talk, I wouldn't need enemies. She’s seen it all my worst dance moves, my weakest heartbreak moments, and the softest version of me that I try to hide from the world. So for now, I just pray she stays silent... and loyal.
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