The Mistress and the Cat

All the other black cats are thinking exactly the same evil thought: We must erase the internet from the face of the earth, and not leave even a single small tail from which the monster could regrow. And the mistress returns from the kitchen and brings me a bowl and places it before me on the floor and brings herself a bowl and places it before the computer. But she doesn't guess what my tail is plotting, because her head is not here

Role Reversal  (Source)

I dreamed I was a cat and my mistress was constantly on the internet, leaving her black cat and turning on the screen and sitting at the computer, and I rub against her leg and ask: Do you love the internet more than me? And she says "Of course you, my cat" but continues on the internet. And I start to be jealous of this internet as only a cat can be jealous, and hate it with my evil cat eyes, and if a cat starts to develop such feelings it's a recipe for disaster.

So I try to reconcile within myself the issue of the internet and the cat. After all, what does the mistress say, that she's on the internet during the day so that the cat will have something to eat at night, but at night which is the best time, the time of dreams, then she pets the black cat with her in bed. And so all the internet is for the cat. On the other hand, from the moment she wakes up she's on the internet, immediately checking what happened with Bibi [Translator's note: Nickname for Benjamin Netanyahu, former Israeli Prime Minister] at night, and who wrote to her by email at night, so maybe the whole night with the cat is really just to accumulate love and strength for the internet during the day? Because now even when she's cuddling with me she peeks at Facebook, so maybe the cat is for Facebook?

And a thought creeps into my head like a black tail to everything we do together: Maybe Facebook gives her more love than me? Maybe it gives her more power than being a cat's mistress? Who does she control there? What velvety caresses are there that excite even through rigid screens? How does the glowing screen attract more than a black cat? And knowing the cat's mind, its pride and vulnerability, and on the other hand the arrogance of mistresses, I am absolutely certain of one thing - that all the other black cats are thinking exactly the same evil thought: We must erase the internet from the face of the earth, and not leave even a single small tail from which the monster could regrow.

And the mistress returns from the kitchen and brings me a bowl and places it before me on the floor and brings herself a bowl and places it before the computer. But she doesn't guess what my tail is plotting, because her head is not here. And she falls asleep with me in bed with the internet within reach even more than the cat, even in the bathroom where she's embarrassed by the cat - Facebook enters with her. And I look at the polish of the mistress's beautiful nails that prefer the hard screen over the soft cat, and are wasted so much, and decide to do a catty deed.

And I get up during her sleep and decide that I too want internet, I too deserve Facebook. And I start to develop a terrible habit, almost an addiction, to sneak out at night from the mistress's bed without her knowledge, to betray my only role, and while she dreams - to be on the internet. And if she wakes up rarely to go to the bathroom, and asks where were you what happened, I answer her in the bowl, or in my litter box, I too deserve to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. And a tail of suspicion begins to wander between us.

And I wander on Facebook and understand that my only way back, the last possibility left, is redemption through transgression. And I open Facebook and start with the mistress on Facebook. And I write her compliments as she likes, after all I know what she likes. And I flatter like a cat caressing with words, and create around myself mystery and curiosity of the kind that kills cats. And every morning she wakes up from the dream jumping from bed to the internet to see what that guy wrote to her at night. And I make an angry face and sleep during the day, because I'm awake at night, and we're growing apart. While at night we're getting closer than we've ever been, and I discover new things I would never have known about the mistress's soul, and about her preferences in bed, because I'm quite the flirt, and always leave a tail of curiosity for the next night.

And every day she formulates, and wrings her fingers, and writes me scrolls that grow longer and longer, while at night I struggle hard to type from the moment she falls asleep until dawn. Then I return exhausted to her embrace, just before the alarm clock, when she fills with life and laughs at what that guy from the other side of the world wrote her, which is why he only writes at night, and his cat-like mind is full of imagination and inventions and tails and various strange stories, unlike the boring cat that lounges all day in bed and doesn't even try to pretend anymore. And maybe that guy is right, for whom it's day when it's night for her and vice versa, and cats are really parasitic, exploitative and devilish creatures, with no love for their owners, but only exploitation of lonely mistresses. And the fact is that when she comes to pet her formerly beloved cat in the middle of the day, in a moment of regret, he scratched her and turned over in bed. Isn't this ingratitude like no other?

And one day she announces to me that the guy from the other side of the screen suddenly told her that as a gesture of love (yes it's strange but that's what they feel) he's traveling to her, and will arrive at her doorstep at night in the most romantic gesture she's ever had in her life, and that he detests cats, and I have until nightfall to vacate, because he's coming exactly at midnight, when date touches date, and she's excited and dressing up and adorning herself, and that I shouldn't ruin her only chance for happiness in life, and it seems to her that even from my side I would already prefer to sleep on the street rather than in her bed, and let's not pretend, this has been dead for years, and now it's just fallen off like an unnecessary tail. And even if I don't understand, she's doing this for both of us, and a day will come and I'll know, even if today I don't understand it and am full of anger (as always), I'll still know that this was the best thing for me too, yes I too deserve to find my happiness, and it's not with her in bed (tear).

And then the clock strikes midnight, the night is as black as me, and I stand in front of her house, and she opens her door wide - and I enter inside.