The Cat Dream

 Consciousness 

Did I spell that right? 

In the mornings I like to do a bit of writing. Some kind of vomit from the night before that doesn't get out of my system until the fingers hit the keyboard. Type R in the search and hit enter. Reddit. Scroll that, then pop open my MS Word. Read the shite I wrote last night and start again. I didn't do that this morning but I should've. Often I begin with a breakdown of the dreams from the night before. Last night was cat-central. Dreams and dreams and dreams of cats. Why cats?

In my dream I had three cats. A glowing white one, a fluffy light grey one, and a tabby grey cat. At some point, the tabby grey broke its leg by jumping funny. I didn't notice the cat was in pain until someone pointed it out. 

"Look, he's limping. Watch him jump."

Sure enough, he was walking with a broken leg. The cat was given to me for free in my dream, and I didn't really want the cat to begin with, but I took it in anyways. When I realized its leg was broken, everyone told me I needed to take it to the vet to get a cast on. I was reluctant and frustrated because I didn't want to spend the money to get the cat fixed. Why would I bother paying to fix something that I got for free? I have two other cats- both of which are nicer looking- why would I get this guy fixed?

I was worried that people would look at me sideways if I flat out said what I wanted to do, so I went to the vet. They said it was a broken leg, and that they needed to put it in a cast, but it would cost a hundred and fifty bucks.  I thought about horses and the predicament they face if their leg breaks. What do we do with a lame horse? I asked the vet if that was acceptable to do and they said without judgement that if it's my cat, I am free to do with it as I please. So long as it's my cat legally, they can put it out of its misery for a fee using an injection. More money. I left unsure. I had the cat by the nape of its neck and thought about my options. 

Someone who I cannot remember, though it was a woodsy older man, listened to my conundrum and told me that if you hold the cat's head still and smack it with a hammer, it's a clean kill and an easy way to do it. But then I'm alone with the body of a cat and I have to find somewhere to keep it. From the moment he told me, I began to feel the eyes and thoughts of the people around me. Everyone had their own opinion on what I would do with the cat. Why would you kill it? You're sick for killing it. That's inhumane. That's disgusting. Immoral. What a bad man you are. 

In my parent's living room, I took the cat by the head and pushed the base of its skull in. It died and I now had to rid of the corpse of the cat. I did not feel burdened by the killing itself, but by the judgement passed to me. It was a secret that I killed the cat only because I didn't want to deal with the aftermath. So where would I dispose of the cat? I thought about burying it but it would be too much work to dig a hole in broad daylight and not be found out. I debated leaving it in a common room in our old apartment building but it would stink and others would come across it naturally and then all hell would break loose. I asked my father what to do and if putting it on the roof for the pigeons to pick at was appropriate but he said that pigeons don't eat cat faces and it could be recognized if someone were to find it. 

I was left with the corpse of a dead cat with nowhere to bury it. I wished I could reverse the killing because of the inconvenience of finding a place to dispose of it.

And then I woke up.