Caring for a cat was not a simple thing. I had always known this, yet experiencing it was something else entirely.

I had always had the opinion that once you had adopted a cat, it was now a part of your family forever. There was no giving it away, no changing your mind, no backing out. It was not a small commitment. You took care of it from life to death. Which made finding your sweet, precious kitty dead overnight, one of the most difficult things I had ever gone through.

​It had been six months after I had adopted a young, brainless furball. A purring machine with nothing to fear except for when her food bowl was empty. Nothing was afraid of her, either, by her lame attempts at play with the dried spaghetti sticks that had fallen to the floor.

She had always seemed a little strange to me. A little off. And now, I’m watching the live example as I see her eyes track the ceiling. But there was nothing there.

“Slipper, are you okay, kitty?” I ask, seeing her blue eyes jump back and forth. I tried my best to look, but I could not find a bug.

“Stop that.” I wave my hand in front of her. “You’re creeping me out.”

She held still, stiff as a board for a solid second before dashing away. I frown.

“Weirdo.”

My foot hits something on the floor. I look down, seeing a gross, overused, torn-apart mouse toy. Immediate pain washes over me. I hit it back under the couch, where it had previously been missing for months. I wouldn’t mind not seeing it again for years. Even the smallest things seemed to tip me over. Every time I thought I’d moved on.

Slipper never plays with normal cat toys. The thought seems to linger with me for the rest of the day.

​Next week, it was something new. As I opened the door returning from work, on a normal day Slipper would stretch from her bed, a slow yawn, and wait for me to come to her.

This time she ran.

“Slipper!” I say astonished, as she scrambles across the apartment.

I follow her freakish movement quickly and then hesitate as I enter the bedroom, afraid to startle her again. She wasn’t there.

“Kitty. What has gotten into you?” I ask, concerned as I crawl across the floor, checking underneath the bed. Her face is turned away from me. Her white figure obscured in the dark.

“Kitty kitty kitty.” She turns.

She’s drooling. Eyes glowing.

I gasp. I hit my head on the bed, scrambling out. Heart racing.

“What the-”

A low growl came from underneath the bed. It was as if something possessed her. Like a ghost. Fear washes over me. My face pales. That was not my cat. Fear turns to outrage. Something, was in my cat.

Using my cat.

I couldn’t believe it. I was not going to let any ghost touch my cat. Me? Sure. My cat? That was something else entirely. I rise to my feet, chin raised, and leave the house.

​Ghosts were not unheard of. The library had plenty on them, and I learn about all sorts of cases as I flip through different books’ pages. The pictures unnerve me. They pass through people’s houses, through their yards and through their streets.

Glowing eyes, thin fingers. Spectral forms and clouded figures.

When they stayed instead of wandered is when the evidence turned gruesome. I learn that ghosts are vengeful, angry creatures.

Blood drawn. Throats strangled.

They don’t remember anything about why they are there. Small fragments of memory come and go. Full of emotion, they’re driven by it.

I turn each page when I want to stop. They kill. They possess. I read all about what makes them mad. What makes them react.

Candles, taunting, but the most powerful thing, the thing that really made them mad, was their name.

This is what gives you power over them. It brings their attention to you.

It startles them. Scares them. Outrages them.

It gives them all their memories back. Like how they died.

That is how you get a ghost out of a body. You make it remember who it really is. Why it’s really upset. And you pray it doesn’t catch you.

​I rub my temples, a headache beginning to form. There was nothing on animals. It seemed it was not usual for a ghost to possess an animal. I sigh.

Maybe I was in for more than I bargained for. Professional help would be more reliable, more efficient. Money was a problem, but the worse problem was that I would have to find help out of town. That wasn’t an option. I have been able to do anything with my own two hands. This just had to be one of them.

A quick stop at one of the only stores in town and I had all the tools I needed. My paper bag was filled with candles, matchsticks, a blank notebook, and whatever else had seemed important.

By the time I had reached home, it was dark. I inserted the keys into the knob, clicking it open as they jingled together. I had left the lights on in the house, I notice, as I quietly creak the door open. All I needed to do was locate Slipper and-

She was right there.

Sitting on the floor ahead of me.

A loud hiss and spat arose from her, her back arched as my breathing stopped.

She darts off in a blink of an eye.

Okay. I think to myself. That was fine. That was better. The less the ghost wants to do with me, the better.

I carefully close the door and tiptoe to the kitchen, feeling like any movement I make might set the thing off. I array the items on the counter. Candle. Matchsticks. Notebook- I freeze.

Crap.

The ghost couldn’t write with cat paws.

I leave it on the counter for when I banish it from my cat’s body. I light a matchstick, and forget to bring the candle.

“Ghostly spirit,” I call out as I slowly make my way through the apartment. “Tell me your name!”

Slipper growls from the other room, a dangerous tone in her voice.

A lump forms in my throat. It was even using my damn cat’s voice. The room is dark. The bed still unmade. Curtains drawn, blocking out the street’s light. I see a faint silhouette on top of the mountainous pile of blankets.

It speaks.

“Mowmowmowmowmow,” it said in a deep voice. Threatening me off.

“Tell me your name!” I shout, thrusting the matchstick forward.

Slipper’s eyes glowed back. Her white fluffy fur and orange-tipped ears, the perfect picture of a ghost.

She hisses at me.

Confusion wells up inside me; I bite my lip. To see my cat act so differently than she would, was concerning. Unnerving.

Yet this ghost, on the other hand, was way more boring than I thought it’d be. It had to have been living here for weeks now, and no matter what I’ve done, it had not attacked me once. Anytime I noticed something, it would run off and hide as fast as it could.

I scoff, irritation crossing my face. I really wasted time worrying about this? Why had I been so afraid? It was just a big, fat, scaredy-

I feel my body freeze.

Cat.

My eyes widen.

Cat.

My eyes travel back to the lump of fur, hissing at me in its bed of pillows. Now hidden under a blanket.

It was just like-

“No.” I say, stern. So sure.

I’m not sure if it’s pain or shock that fills my voice.

“It’s not possible. There is no way. It can’t-” I instinctively turn away, and as I do, I see the couch. I remember the ruined toy Slipper had found underneath…

Except it wasn’t Slipper that found it. She’s never touched those toys.

No.

They were the favorite of-

“Mitzy.” I say. The words sounding like an echo in my ears as I turn around to the figure in the bedroom. Slipper stared back at me. “Mah.” She said in her food voice, staring at me as if nothing had happened.

I feel a cold chill leave the room.

“Mitzy.” I say again, entering the room, I search around.

“Mitzy. Are you there? Please.” I don’t know how I feel anymore. To have my cat, my dead cat, in my house after so long. After so much longing. After I had finally accepted she was gone, and would never come back.

“Please.” I say. “I love you. Please.” My voice turns rough.

Yet there is no response. Did she leave? Not yet! She can’t. Not. Yet. Please. My mind races. Angry, desperate thoughts fill my head. There was nothing in the book on how to keep a ghost!

I race to the couch, desperate, I land on the floor and thrust my arm underneath. My fingers clasp onto a disgusting, hair-covered toy.

I toss it across the floor.

It sits still.

I wait.

And nothing happens. I don’t think I can bear it. Did I get rid of my own cat? I feel like I’ve been ripped apart all over again, the wounds deep and new, seeping out of me. My face contorts as I hunch over. I feel my shoulders shake. Everything I’ve blamed on myself before, I blame myself again now.

That was when I noticed the toy had moved.

I forget to breathe. I see the mouse flip around and jolt to the left.

“Mitzy!” My poor girl. She was here. My eyes fill with tears, a broken smile on my face. What had kept her here? As a ghost? She couldn’t be searching for vengeance.

Or, at least, I hoped not.

She was just confused.

Scared.

The same as if she were in an unfamiliar place. I wipe my eyes at the thought of how alone she must have felt.

“Want some num-nums, girl?” I ask the invisible cat.

“Mah.” Slipper responds from her spot, but I barely notice. I stand to my feet, desperate to fill my late cat with happy memories in hopes of making her feel safe and welcome. In the kitchen cabinet, I reach to the back for the cans that Slipper had never eaten. The ones that had been sitting there gathering dust for months.

As I turn, I see that the paper bag and the items around it still on the counter.

I take the now-opened can of food and the newly lit candle to the room as I turn off the lights.

My breath catches.

I can see a small, ghostly, cat-like figure look from her mouse to me.

Her face just as small.

Her eyes just as wide. Her whiskers long, her ears pointed…

She looked as precious as the day I’d lost her.

Except, for the fact that my used-to-be black cat, was now a glow-in-the-dark cat.

She gave me a small squeaky meow as her tail curled, approaching me. She sniffed the food, and somehow ate it. Hesitantly, I reach for her back, like I always had. It’s cold to the touch. And yes, I can touch her. Vaguely soft, somehow between this world and another. It was wonderful, yet sad, at the very same time.

Slipper hopped off the bed to lie in my lap. Purring once again.

Although difficult it was to care for a cat, for this life, and, even the next.

In my opinion, it was absolutely, very much, well worth it.