The Cat I Never Got Back

I have always loved cats. I don’t know why, but they just really appeal to me. I adopted a cat not too long ago. I got him from a litter of kittens when a friend’s cat gave birth. I named him Cinnamon, for his dark orange fur. Cinnamon, was always a very playful and energetic cat. He always wanted to play and I had to buy a bunch of toys to keep him entertained while I was away at work. He was friendly too. He would often greet guests at the door and would politely allow people to stroke his soft fur. Although, I hate to admit it, but I don’t really have guests over that often. Cinnamon is probably my closest friend, so it hurts me a lot to see what’s happened to him.

Things got odd when I came home one day and Cinnamon was gone. I noticed practically immediately. He always came running to the door when I entered, but he was nowhere to be seen. I called out for him and began looking around the house, but I couldn’t find him. I was confused to say the least. Cinnamon was largely an inside cat. Sometimes, we’d play in the backyard, but that was it. There was no way for him to have gotten out, but he wasn’t anywhere in the house. I thought he might have gotten stuck somewhere, but after two hours of thorough searching, I came up empty handed. I resigned myself to the fact that he got out somehow and began posting his picture on local Facebook groups, so people could return him if they found him. I was worried, I didn’t know what I’d do without him. Sometimes it felt like Cinnamon was the only thing keeping me sane.

I walked around the neighborhood, keeping an eye out for him, but I didn’t see anything. I asked neighbors working on their yards and people on strolls if they had seen an orange cat, but they all told me no. As the sun began setting, I dejectedly walked back home. The house seemed so empty without him.

A week passed. I contacted local animal shelters to keep an eye out in case someone brought in an orange cat, and I constantly checked Facebook, hoping for someone saying they found Cinnamon. But, nothing came of it. I offered a $300 reward if anyone found him, but money doesn’t solve everything, I guess. I was beginning to lose hope when one day, late in the evening, there was a loud and forceful banging at my door. I was a bit taken aback. I was not expecting anyone, I didn’t order anything, and I figured if someone found Cinnamon, they wouldn’t be returning him so late in the day. I looked out the window to see who was there, but there wasn’t anybody. But, there was a cardboard box on my doorstep. It was unsealed, but I couldn’t make out what was inside the box. I opened the door and looked around. I didn’t see anyone or any cars leaving. I opened the box, and I was surprised to see Cinnamon staring up at me from inside.

My first instinct was to feel relief, joy, but something seemed off about Cinnamon. He just stared blankly, not even moving. Before, I could pick him up, he slinked out of the box and came inside. I took the box inside and closed the door. I checked for a note or something, but there was nothing there. I was really weirded out by it all. I figured I should feed Cinnamon, since he probably hadn’t had much to eat in the past week, but he didn’t seem interested in eating. He just would stare at a picture of me and my family hung up on the wall. I tried petting him, but he didn’t react, even when I pet him in his favorite spots. Rather than the normal symphony of purrs that he would emit, all there was was silence. I decided I’d leave him be and check up on him again in the morning. I expected to find him in his cat bed next to mine when I woke up, but he wasn’t there. I got up and found him still in the same spot, staring at the picture. The food was there uneaten still. I decided to try and pick him up and bring him to my room to see if I could get him to be interested in playing, but when I tried to pick him up, he hissed and scratched me. I was shocked as he jumped out of my grasp and returned to his spot to continue staring at the picture. I couldn’t believe it. Cinnamon never scratched me, or anyone ever. I never had even heard him hiss before. He was normally so docile, this behavior was not like him at all. I wanted to try and see what was wrong with him, but I needed to go to work. So, I left him in the same spot, hoping he would be back to his normal self when I got back.

But, when I got back, he was still staring at the picture, and the food was still uneaten. He hadn’t even used his litter box. I decided I’d take him to the vet, but sadly there was no appointments until next week. For the rest of the evening, I tried getting Cinnamon to move. I dangled his favorite treats just out of his reach, had his favorite toys put in front of him, and set his scratching post right beside him, but nothing seemed to snap him out of his odd trance. I resigned myself to the fact that the Cinnamon I knew was probably not coming back anytime soon.

That night, something odd happened. I heard sounds like glass shattering and things being knocked over. I ran out to see if Cinnamon was moving again, but I turned on the lights and Cinnamon was still in the same spot. I looked around to see if there was anything knocked over, but everything was exactly how I had left it. I thought maybe I was dreaming, or it was something outside. But, I knew that wasn’t the case. I heard it as clear as day.

The next day was Saturday, so I just hung around the house, as I do normally, but I began to feel uncomfortable, like someone was in the house with me. I went out, leaving Cinnamon in his spot. I didn’t come back till it was dark. Cinnamon was right where I had left him. I sighed and went to bed. That night, I heard howling, as if there was someone in a great deal of pain outside my window. I looked outside but there was nothing there and then I heard what sounded like someone crying inside my bathroom. I opened the door and turned on the lights, but nothing was amiss. I went to check on Cinnamon. He sat there, undisturbed, along with the food that was left for him. The wind, I thought. It must be the wind or something, and yet there didn’t seem to be any wind outside at all. I went outside and looked around my yard, but there was nothing around and there was not even a slight breeze. Then, I heard something come from inside the house. It sounded like glass shattering and something heavy falling to the floor. I ran inside, but sure enough, everything was as it was before. I just decided to sleep. I just wanted to sleep and not think about anything. I took some melatonin and went back to bed, swearing that if I heard anything, I wouldn’t get up. I fell asleep, but when I woke up I swear I could hear whispers. I was tired of running and finding nothing. I was going to spend the day in bed, I wouldn’t even get up to eat. As the hours dragged on and the shadows on my wall lengthened, it seemed the whispers began to multiply and grow louder, as if approaching my door. I still hear them now.