The Strange Summer

This story is about me. Of course it is. I'm fabulous. My name is Thomas Finius Blakely. My buddies call me Tom. Most humans call me, affectionately, "That Darn Cat." I'm sure this endearment is thanks for controlling the rodent population.

This summer was supposed to be the best of my life. I came of age. The she-cats were calling for me. I was quick to answer that call.

Then, things took a strange turn.

One hot afternoon, I was looking for a cool place to chill. There was a machine outside the food store which dispensed small packages of stuff to eat. Lazy machine for lazy humans. I stretched to find just the right spot for my catnap in its shade.

The machine said to me, "Pst! Hey, cat. I got a proposition for yous."

Now, I don't know how the machine learned feline, but I was intrigued. "What do you want?" I asked.

"It's not what I want. It's what I, Al, can do for yous." Al went on, "I gots some extra special snacks I been holdin' out on them humans. I'll give yous one every day if you follow a human and tell me what all they dream that night."

"How am I supposed to know what they dream about?"

The snacks will give yous that ability. What ya think? Yous in?"

"Sure, I'll give it a go." Free snacks and insight into humans? Sounded good to me.

Al rumbled, and out popped a package. The tantalizing aroma had me ripping it open even before I pulled it to safety under Al's bulky body.

I didn't stop eating until I had licked every little morsel clean from the package. As divine as it tasted, I started feeling really good almost right away; strong, alert, and somehow comforted.

Al's voice sounded distant. "There's one! Follow that human in the uniform."

I peered out and slinked after the only guy I saw by himself. He got into a delivery truck. When he wasn't looking, I slipped in the back though the open door.

The first time he stopped, I was sure I would get caught. I squeezed between packages and held my breath. He was so focused on what he was doing, he didn't even look in my direction. Later, when he moved a package not far from me, I relocated under the seat next to his while he was gone. After a bit, I relaxed and had the catnap I had hoped for earlier.

Soon, the packages were all delivered, and he went home.

It was tricky sneaking into his house, but I managed to time it just right, and he didn't see me. Only his scent permeated the place, so I knew he lived alone. It was cleaner and cooler than the streets. I briefly thought about domestication, but I enjoyed the outdoor life. Plus, I was on a mission.

When he went to the bathroom later, I helped myself to a piece of his hamburger. Not bad.

I snuck under his bed. When I could hear that he was sleeping, I jumped up next to him. I closed my eyes. Soon, I was seeing a different view. I was in his dream. He was nervous about delivering a red package. After many wrong turns and harrowing issues, he was successful. A bunch of humans were smacking his back and rubbing his head like he was a good kitty.

The next day, I told Al all about it. He seemed satisfied. He rumbled and gave me another snack.

The next one was a woman I followed by foot. She dreamt about getting dressed up and going to a fancy party.

The one after that was a young boy who dreamed that his father got roughed up by some goons. That wasn't a fun one.

On and on it went. Night after night. Dream after dream. The snacks had me by the throat.

Summer was starting to cool down, when I followed the guy who opened Al up and filled his insides. His truck said, "New York Snack Company." He drove a long way. His dream involved lots of rich people showering him with money. Then, the real door opened. I quickly hid under the bed. A guy with a stick aimed it at the ceiling and made it thunder. Little pieces of the ceiling fell down. He aimed his thunder stick at my dreamer. They shouted for a bit, and then, my guy didn't live much longer.

It took me a week to find my way back to Al. I was hurting bad for a snack. I was about to tell him what happened, when someone grabbed me. It was a young girl.

She said, "Look Mommy, a pretty kitty. Can we keep her?"

Of all the indignity...

My name is now Emerald. I live with my humans, Tiffany, Sylvia, and Greg. It's not a bad gig, if you can get it. I never did find out what happened to Al.

Dedicated to my Uncle Al. No, he's not mafia! He's a retired minister.

This was inspired by a prompt for a mini challenge by Laura Pruett. Here are the details: