Yesterday some friends asked if I would babysit their cat for roughly one year while they’re in Europe waiting for the furor surrounding their thrill-killing and bank robbery spree to die down. I politely declined, but offered to look around for potential can-openers. So, if anyone’s interested in hosting an unassuming and fairly well-read cat for a year, let me know and I’ll pass it along.

No doubt this matter planted the seeds of last night’s dream in my brain:

I lie lay am laining am in bed trying to drift off to sleep. I can not tell whether I am awake or dreaming that I awake. The doorbell buzzes harshly instead of ringing, which leads me to believe that this is a dream. I open the door.

It is Bill, a former feline acquaintance of mine who died several years ago. He is in perfect health (which in his case is to say that he is big and fat). He trots past me as cats are wont to do, as if I am there simply to hold doors and feed him. I have no idea how he rang the doorbell.

He looks around. He opens up cabinets. He checks under chairs. He looks on bookshelves. He even manages to get the pantry and fridge open, but still he hasn’t found whatever.

He finally walks over to the couch. He reaches underneath it, grabbing at something. I pick up one end of the couch.

There are two mice with grey fur and red eyes. The mice look guilty and now they are caught.

Bill grabs one of them and bites into its gut. The mouse issues a high-pitched, blood-curdling scream. Bill munches on him and pins the other one down with his paw. He finishes the first mouse and stares at the second one, who screams the same scream. Bill swallows the second mouse whole.

A triangle of three red laser dots appears on Bill. He sees it and tries swatting at it. The dots move in front of him and lead him across the floor. He scampers after them and finds the source of the dots: a giant, armored, dreadlocked alien with a shoulder-mounted laser gun. Yes, like in the movies.

Before I can flip out, before I can even begin to ask why there’s a giant alien in my house or how it snuck in, Bill scampers up its leg and torso and buries his fangs in its neck. The alien screams a slightly deeper version of the mice’s scream. The laser gun fires aimlessly several times. The bolts blast the ceiling, the floor, through walls and windows. The intruder grabs Bill and tries to pull him off, but to no avail. It can’t position Bill so as to shoot him. The intruder tries to stanch the flow of blood with one hand and futilely flails at Bill with the other hand. The alien collapses and dies, and Bill continues to chew on him.

I decide it’s probably best to let him finish, and start cleaning up the mess.

I hope Cat Heaven is something like my dream. I hope.

6 thoughts on “Predator.

  1. What I was imagining while reading about your dream:

    “What, behind the rabbit?”
    “It TIS the rabbit.”
    “What’s ‘e do, nibble your bum?”


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