Come Home, Cat

I’m writing this from my phone so it’s pretty casual. It’s two in the morning so don’t expect something brilliant. Or coherent.

I just have something to say. My heart has a little crack in it. My cat went missing. For fuck’s sake it’s just a fucking cat! It’s my cat. Attachments and all.

I miss him.

I find it really funny how I try to incorporate my humanness to this beast. We don’t speak the same language. Cat’s don’t talk, stupid. We don’t think the same way. So how? How do I know that all my conclusions are correct? But we do feel. That even how obscure the catness of my cat is, it does not rule out the reality that both of us are sentient beings. Is he sad? I am sad. If he is sad, is he sad for the same reasons that I am sad about? That I do not know. This leads me to another question: If he is sad and the sadness makes him want to go home, does he want to go home for the same reasons that I have which make me yearn for him to be found?


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