Issue 14 Responding

It had been a workday of average monotony when I returned to my apartment around six-thirty p.m. and found my two cats waiting for me at the door. The problem was, I had only ever had one cat.

Phoenix, a nineteen-year-old calico who I’d had since he was two, was there on the entryway rug like he always was. But sitting beside him was a second, almost identical calico. This one was younger and fitter. Whereas Phoenix had arthritis and leaned slightly to the left while sitting, this cat sat up straight. Whereas the fur on Phoenix’s elderly back stuck out at odd angles no matter how much I smoothed it, this cat was well-groomed. Phoenix was making no secret of the annoyance he felt towards this young newcomer. As I closed the door behind me, utterly baffled, the younger cat let out a loud meow and received a swift paw to the head from Phoenix.