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Since moving day, the Cat hasn’t been itself.

Having suffered the indignity of being stuffed into a pet carrier for the trip, the Cat decided very deliberately to take it out on his companion and the world for an entire week afterwards.

Now cats are talented misanthropes at the best of times, and the Cat always does one better than that anyway.   So when the Cat decides it hates life, the universe and everything – including any luckless Jonathon8s that get in its way – the waves of detestation are fucking palpable.

The Cat maintains always that the best defence is offence (or perhaps offense), and therefore deprived the cat carrier of its power as a prison by reclaiming it as a fortress of solitude.   In other words – having not wanted to go in the fucking thing in the first place, the Cat then wouldn’t come out of it.   For a week.   Not while anyone was watching, anyway.

Holed up in a small space in a new city, that smelt too weird and sounded too loud, where nothing looked familiar, and the new hunting grounds were foreign and hostile…   The food was different, the feel was different – all the stuff that reminds you who you are and how the world works for you – all different.  

Shit – maybe the Cat just didn’t recognise itself for a while there.

Who knows what the fuck the Cat was ‘feeling’, though?   Resentful that circumstances ultimately out of its control meant relocating?   Agitated after all the unsettling events that led up to that?   Lonely for the things it knew and the people it liked to mess with?   Wary of the new environment, worried about its place in this different place?

Or nothing.  

Maybe it felt nothing.  

And so it just hunkered down to wait until it felt more like itself again.   Until things fell back into place, and it knew what it was going to be this time, and how to be it.


Either way, when the Cat finally left the confines of its safehouse, it was with a steelier gaze, a fleeter foot, a stronger and a renewed blood lust.  

The Cat was back.


The Cat and I had a little housewarming last night.   I bought a wine glass and a cat bowl, and we toasted to the fact that we’d both survived the change and had finally proved to ourselves we were going to make a bloody killing in our new town.





  1. Glad the Cat is back. Sounds like back and better than ever as well.

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