Black Cat

04/15/2024 Monday 56-80F Mostly Sunny

When she saw that secondhand, black cat-patterned flowerpot in the old man’s shop, she hesitated. 

“It looks cute. For just five bucks, why not take it?” Her husband suggested.

“Black cat… In Japanese culture, it always symbols something bewitched and mysterious.”

“Lol. Do you believe that?” Her husband laughed, gripped the pot in his hand. “Let’s buy it.”

Recently almost every night, the camera installed on her pouch could detect a cat: Black coat, yellow eyes. The time it appeared varied, often after midnight but before 3:00am. “It’s strange. I have never seen such a cat before.” One morning when she received the reminder of the same cat from her camera app, she wondered, “And it seems like the cat jumped onto the porch from the direction of my front window that is shut all the time. There is no way for it to get in or out.” But since she wasn’t a curious person, and this matter was too insignificant to her, she decided to leave it alone.

One night, her husband worked very late in the city and the train which he usually took home broke down. Anxiously awaiting the further update from her husband, she couldn’t fall asleep, so she decided to read in bed. Suddenly yet unsurprisingly, she heard the alarm of her front camera. “It must be the cat.” She immediately thought. “Let me find out!” She closed her book and rushed downstairs to the front window, where under the porch light she did see the cat sitting on the outside ledge of the window, scratching its cheek with its little hind paw. It must have sensed something as well, since it stopped, turned its head, and gave her a glimpse through the window. Then it jumped off, crossed the porch at a great speed, and disappeared amongst the darkness.

“It’s wired. Why does this cat stop by my window all the time?” She figured, reaching out her hand to turn on the lamp nearby. Hastily and in the dark, she knocked over the lily pot on the windowsill. The pot broke, the dirt spilled out. 

“Gee!” She bent down to collect the shards. But shockingly, as if her hands were burnt by the shards, she retreated: It was the pot from the old man, while the black cat drawn on it was gone, only a patch of purple and green flower spikes where the cat stayed remained.

She kept all the shards in a basket and set it at the same spot on the windowsill. However, since then, the camera no more detected that cat, and the flower bush somehow looked lonesome.

Several months later, since there’s no sign of the cat’s return, she dumped the shards.