forced entry #321: the shocking cat

I'm being shocked by Miles. He is a long black ball of static electricity. His fur pops when I pet him. Its crackles as a drag my palm along all his curves and stretches. Small jolts snap between his nose and my forearm and he flinches back and stares queerly at me and I stare back with my own shrug and shiver. You can see it spark. A small shock from him to me. It's exciting and somewhat frightening at the same time.

i wonder if its me. Am i the one carrying these pent up charges of energy? i think back on my routine and don't find many strays or changes to it. not recently. it is the same, always the same. i have not acquired any new clothes. my couch is still made of the same fabric. my curtains and rug are the the same, non-static-electricity conducting material they have always been. so what is new? why the sudden shocks?

Ive been watching him to see what may have manifested in his daily methods, but he seems to be the same ole hooligan kitty he's always been. knocking over glasses of water. tearing at the toilet paper roll. bullying Sophie. getting into cabinets he shouldn't be anywhere near. he does have the habit of grinding his face along every surface he can, marking his own little territory in a territory hes forced to share, but that's nothing new. it cant be that, can it?

if so, there is no way i can stop it. I'll just have to accept that some day i may be on the wrong end of an electrical charge that will most likely stop my weak, nicotine and red meat filled heart. it would be fitting that miles, my black cat, were the cause of my demise. i love him so but he in many ways reminds me of myself. self absorbed, needy, long and dark and pretends not to care. always guilty; paws dirty in someway or another. doesn't realize his size sometimes. cant hide the truth on his face.

Sophie, on the other hand, is devoid of any such startling jolts. she is the same, fluffy, soft as a babies bottom, tabby shes always been. she still wakes me up in the morning, demanding i pet her under my covers. she still has that coy, aloof manner in which she begs for attention. she still remains delicate and fragile. and acts as if her bones are too brittle to be bothered with the world. she, like miles, has not changed much, save she doesn't shock me when i pet her.

i suppose it could be miles wildness trying to unleash itself from his small, furry frame. this apartment just isn't big enough for him. he needs to hunt. he needs to run. he needs to be free. sorry miles good buddy, you re a city cat, and i cant have you running these streets and coming home with kitty AIDS or some bullshit because you got mixed up in the wrong crowd. just tone it down buddy. and stay away from the left side of my chest.