I strongly believe cats are spooky felines that are carefully spying on me, always alert and on the hunt to finally get me one day.

When I was a kid our first pet was a vagabond yellow-stripped cat. I don’t remember if he found us or if we found him. All we cared was that we had a pet, a free fluffy cat. We didn’t care for his origins or if he had an anguished owner looking for him, we just kept the cat and said nothing.

The first week was adventurous, not for us, but for the cat. Surviving two toddlers, their squeezes, their pulling, their throwing, for sure it could have done a number on any creature. But not to this cat. He seemed to be a miracle. He was showing up daily at our bedroom happy and eager to get some more.

Things were good, but only for a while. Until one day, it all got really spooky. 

Here are 3 signs that you own a spooky cat:

Have you ever felt the weight of a warm 7 lb human creature on your chest while you are sleeping? Of course you have, we are moms. Then add to that a purr sound, all while you feel the warm air going to your nose, every inhale and exhale coming out of the cat’s nostrils. Sucking yours in its travel. Then to find out their eyes are big wide open and as close as to 10 cm away from yours. You obviously, as me, would have thrown the freakish thing away from your chest faster than Speedy Gonzalez outrunning Sylvester. Every. Night.

I swear there were a couple of nights where his eyes were looking at mine and looking very red, diabolic red. My mom used to say it was the outside light reflecting on them – which it could have made sense if in fact the light was red, but it wasn’t, it was amber – I never believed it. Then she would argue that I was tired. Mom, really? Can I win one?.

The only one reason everyone around me believed that perhaps cats and I were not meant to be together, ever, was the fact I became allergic to cat’s hair. Shallow breathing, unstoppable sneezes, hives, were part of the torture ritual my allergies and I seem to be performing. 

So guess what happened to that spooky animal? Hell yeah! No more hunting of my soul. His hairy ass was on the street again.

We didn’t own a cat ever since. And I made sure not to bother bringing up the topic to my little brother.

Now as an adult, I find myself thinking if I could give this feline another chance and be part of my life. Every time the answer is no, and not because of my allergies symptoms, merely because on the fact that the next time a cat lives under my roof I fear he is to be waiting to find the perfect time to get me. To make me pay for what it happened to our last cat. I can’t live being scared at the thought of a spooky cat on top of me again, sucking all my breathing air while looking at me with those red big eyes.