He had awoken from the strangest dream, more disturbing than odd, more horrifying than weird. In fact, so real, he jumped in the air. This was not a dream.
Six hours ago, before this power catnap, Dexter remembered a previous life of being a human being. Now, he was a tabby cat thanks to some sort of mystical reincarnation hoodoo voodoo jive. He was certain that after some much needed sleep; he would forget his previous life. This was far from the case.
As he rolled on his side to stretch and yawn, he found the white spots on his little paws to be downright adorable. It was nice to have a do-over as a fresh kitten, but it made no sense. He was a dog guy, not a cat person. This had to be some sort of payback for mocking the town cat lady in his college days. In retrospect, she did say something about many curses on your rebirth, jagoff.
He sidled his way to the sunlight coming in through the window. He extended, stretched and swiveled his whole body. When in Rome, right? He started to purr. He was startled at first by the internal roar, but damn, it felt pretty good.
Dexter reminisced about all the things he missed when he was a man. Sporks™, deep-dish pizza, Twitter®, and dim sum. Oh my God, dim sum. He swore to himself, if he was ever reincarnated as a human, he was going to make feeding cats dim sum a thing, just in case he became a cat again. Like an unexpected sneeze, he was hungry. He sniffed around to find food.
He was comforted with the idea that he was a house cat and not one of those damn “alley cats” living in a shithole, spreading FIV like disgusting animals. He discovered a bowl of wet food beside the refrigerator. He stuck his nose in the bowl, the scent of tuna was strong. He licked the gravy off of the pink cubes before swallowing one. Hey, what gives? This tastes like fucking cardboard ass. Realizing that all the savory flavor came from the juice, he proceeded to lick the food dry. He assumed that this would suffice for now, and then he saw the dry food in an identical bowl. It smelled like a potpourri of chemicals, barely chicken. It was horrendous. He was doomed.
Dexter lurched forward as his stomach came to life. He heaved and released. It was a mixture of cat hair, morsels of food and clear slime. He looked at his creation and sashayed back to where he began. He licked his front paw and pulled it across his face. He had seen cats do that before. He needed to get that stench off his face. Each stroke made him tired. He fell asleep.
Three hours later, Dexter woke up again. He lifted his head, and looked around, before kneading the floor in front of him, stepping in place. He stared at something in the distance, blinked about 25 times, and fell asleep again. He twitched while he slept.