noun
1. Any mishap, misfortune, accident, fiasco, or failure as the result of cats.
EX. And now for a small cat-astrophe.
CAT
LADY
“Are you serious, Katherine?”
Dr. Barry had never spoken to me in that tone before
in a setting and, then again, I had never told him about an experience so
outrageous. It was a tone both bemused and concerned; as if he wasn’t quite
sure what to make of it yet.
“It is one thing to see giant cats in your dreams
and it is an entirely different thing to say you see them while awake,” He
looked at me from the armchair, thick eyebrows like a pair of burst cattails
pressed together, with concern, and he asked, “Are you sure you’ve not been
losing sleep again?”
I tried to “Well, it was Molly,” Molly, my pet tabby
cat, “I mean she normally wakes me in the morning,” my voice quaked with an
anxious shiver, “But this was different.”
“My cat wakes me every morning,” I explained, “But
this morning, instead of just feeling her walk over my belly or legs, I felt
the bed move when she hopped onto the end of the bed; she was the size of a
cougar.”
“Really?” Dr. Barry interrupted.
“Yes, really,” I continued, “And Molly looked at me
expectantly and, maybe for a moment, I thought I was dreaming or that she was
going to eat me. Then, she hopped off the end of the bed and made her way out
my bedroom door.”
“And did you follow her?” The doctor asked.
“No, not immediately. I first had to make sure this
wasn’t a dream,” I said, picking at the end of shirt sleeve, “I mean it surely
didn’t feel like a dream, but it’s hard to tell sometimes whether I am dreaming
or sleeping. Especially since I started taking those new sleeping pills.”
“Sleeping pills?” I could feel Dr. Barry’s disappointment.
“Well, I got a free sample and that’s beside the
point. Will you let me finish?” I leaned back on the sofa, trying to get
comfortable, “The pills make me feel like I’m in a daydream.”
“So, I decided, if this was a dream, because it
surely had to be, I might as well investigate where it would take me; I
followed Molly’s path to the kitchen and found her, the monstrous cat, waiting
by her bowl in front of the pantry. I opened the cabinet to get a can of her
food.”
“And as I began to open the can, Molly rubbed
against the back of my legs, pushing me into the cabinets with her large body.
She let out this purr that sounded, well, and I know this sounds silly but like
an old car.”
“And then I put the food in her bowl. Made myself
some tea and that was it.”
“And Molly is back to normal size, I assume?” The doctor
asked.
“Well, most of the time, but when I wake up in the
morning or from a nap or feel stressed,” I laughed as I tried to explain, “Molly
just seems to grow bigger.”
“Katherine,” The doctor stood up, “I’m going to recommend
you stop taking those pills and maybe talk to someone besides me, your mother,
and your cat. You’re just stressed. Go home and get some rest. But first, flush
those pills, and call me.”
*
I did as the doctor told me to do, after all it was
good advice, and then decided to sit down with a good cup of tea in my room.
Molly sat in front of the door, the size of a station wagon, and taking a nice
nap. She looked comfortable and, as I sat down next to her and leaned into her
side, a purr rumbled like my grandfather’s old Cadillac in my ears.
