The Ghost

The Pout

So, as reported, The Butcher is back in town to move his family to Phoenix.

I don’t know if that’s necessary backstory or not.

Last night I let the dog out. As he was coming in, the cat went out. For the night, because I was going to bed.

In the middle of the night, I woke up because the dog was being restless and making weird noises. I listened for a minute to see if it seemed like he needed something, but no, he was just pacing around the house.

I then felt something jump up on the bed and walk around. I could feel the bed depressing. The cat, I thought. And then I was wide awake because I knew the cat was outside. I was like, did I leave the front door open? Is a window open? How is the cat back in the house? And I’m staring into the darkness, trying to get a look at the cat at my feet, but it’s dark and I don’t have my glasses on and I’m using this eye gel at night that makes everything even blurrier.

Basically, I see nothing.

But the house is quiet. It doesn’t sound like a door or window are open. Outside sounds are not louder than they should be.

So, I shut my eyes and try to convince myself that I’m having some kind of weird experience analogous to old hag–where even though I think I’m awake, I’m actually still dreaming–but where instead of sensing another person in the room with me, crawling on top of me, I sense a cat?

Like, even as I type this, I think that seems like the most plausible explanation. It’s some kind of mild form of old hag.

But I’m laying there in the dark and I feel the cat walking up the bed, right at my side, like a cat would do if its about to curl in the warm space of your curved back. And I figure it has to be the cat, got back in the house some way that I will just deal with in the morning.

So, there she is, heavy against the small of my back, and I reach down to pet her, just to let her know I know she’s there and… and this is the really weird part, which I still can’t decide means it was a kind of old hag experience or if it really was a ghost… there’s nothing there. My hand does not find a cat where my hand should find a cat.

But I could still feel the warmth on my back. I could still feel the bed sagging down in that one spot.

Anyway, the Butcher’s back and I suspect the orange cat is, too. At least for a night.

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