You prowl the night
In restless terror, you run far from the police station. Everything feels too familiar in 2011. All you want is to be a man again, but thanks to your clumsy paws, you can’t even get into your spam folder to look for tips or pills. You think you may have reached a new low. You try not to think. You become lost. You remember a time you ate out of the garbage. You were with friends, and no one believed you’d do it. They laughed and bet, daring you, goading you on. You showed them, all right.
You feel totally unlike yourself. You run several miles. You’re not any better suited to being a cat than you are to being a human, but you try to make the most of it.
You find yourself hiding in a box. “Haven’t I done this before?” you wonder. Your life as a cat is dreadfully tedious and it’s only just begun! You’re stuck in the rat race, and some of it requires actually chasing rats. You feel an oppressive literalness that reminds you of your college Geology training. It gets darker.
You cheer yourself up realizing that being a cat has its advantages. “For one thing, there’s no job hunting. Only the job of hunting.” It takes you twenty minutes to come up with another one. “And being able to fit into smaller places,” you think as you sneak under a fence with ease.
In search of something to eat, you climb a hill. You will look for some restaurants or piles of mice from that vantage point. When you reach the top, you stare at the moon. Its serenity inspires you to meditate in the cold grass even though there are bugs crawling on you.
You think about your purpose and whether or not you’re hungry enough to eat bugs until the sun comes up. You hear a faint fluttering in the distance.You decide to: