(And the Greek chorus sings: “Duh. What else? Nano would have a cat ghost. Like, imagine that.”)
Here’s the deal. Twice now in dim light I’ve seen out of the corner of my eye a shadowy catly form with a raised tail walking past me. As this sort of seeming fleeting half-presence is something that moving cats are good at, and thinking it’s herself, I turn back to say something to her, and THERE’S NO CAT. I check, double-check, then I check ahead to the next room, and there the corporeal one is, curled up and sleeping deeply on her little tower. The one I thought I saw was going in the opposite direction each time.
And just a little while ago I thought I saw her face under the dining room table. I picked up the edge of the tablecloth for a peek at her, and again: NO CAT. Up to now, if I’ve seen a cat under the table, there’s been a cat under the table. Every time.
Assuming I’ve not gone stone crazy, my first question is, “After four-plus years in the same digs, why now?” And the bodily one hasn’t been acting funny like they are reported to in the presence of such things…but again, she’s been sleeping all zonked-out like. And let me state for the record that I’ve always been a skeptic when it come to these things, so I’m willing to go with the idea that I’m nuts. I can live with that. Some would say that I’ve been having to for quite some time.
But I have to say that of all the ghosts one could have and if I have to have one, for me a cat ghost is so totally right.
First, as I am feeling generous today I will ignore your ailurophobic and, frankly, “catty” remark. You would do very well to own that reality and reflect on its irony, by the way.
Now that that’s over, think of this episode as yet just another of the countless facets of my bewildering yet somehow charming eccentricity. If the spectre meows at me, I’ll let you know.
There’s a thought. I didn’t ask for one, but I don’t know how that stuff works.
I would post a stinging retort but the disgusting bundle of seal-point fur in my lap is inhibiting my access to the keyboard. Always at tea time he does this.
You may have a ghost, or some such, but you aren’t alone. There’s one in this house that can be heard walking about at times - by me and the dog. I call it “George” after the previous owner who died of a heart attack just up the street on his way home from bowling one night.
Frequently, around midnight, anyone here can smell a freshly lit cigarette. It was a bit creepy at first, but it is what it is (whatever that is!).
So far yes with the sleeping, and I considered that possibility, too. In her old age I must admit she’s gotten…interesting. And the cat spectre is fairly like her in size and gait.
You’d never know she was old just by looking at and observing her. But this year she’s taken to being talkative, voicing her opinions and stuff. A lot. Never used to do that before, much. So, yeah, even though coincidences don’t mean correlations, it could be. Why not?
This building’s been around since 1923, and while that’s enough time for at least one to have taken up residence, no one’s ever mentioned any ghostly-type stuff here. I certainly haven’t experienced any until now, IF that’s what it is. Which is why I find it odd that it should happen now, and that it’s a ca…whoah. Waiddaminnit. A fellow tenant’s moggie passed on maybe a year ago.
Maybe I’ll ask him. But to tell the truth, that’s gonna be a BIG maybe.
I used to have a big, long-haired, gray and white tuxedo cat. Sharp as a tack, frighteningly genius, and very sweet. He was somewhat vocal, but only on occasions: begging and greeting, but only once you had already acknowledged him. He would typically not meow loudly from another room.
About 8 or so years ago, I was in my living room around midnight. We have a big glass door in that room, where that cat would always come in and out. When he was out, he would run up and stare through the window at you till you let him in. As I was getting up to leave the room, he popped his head up outside the door, staring at me, asking to come in. For some reason I decided not to do that, and just headed up to bed. (Real nice, I know.) When I got to the top of the stairs, I heard a very loud and pointed meow (I mean it felt intentionally aimed at me). I turned and looked through the open double doors into my parents’ bedroom/office, and there was the cat sitting proudly on my dad’s desk, facing me.
I have to go along with Doug here. I believe that we really don’t have a clue about how all this birth/death and in between stuff works, so this makes as much sense as any explanation I could muster.
