Cats n Coffee

It has been so long since I had a nice cup of coffee. The last one was in 2005, April 12th. The day I went by a Starbucks and a car crashed into the window, running me over and making me hit my head. The doctors said I fell in a state of coma to which I managed to wake up two months and four days later. Now 9 years have passed since that day and nothing was the same since. I lost 2 jobs, fucked up a relationship with a beautiful lady and almost killed myself in several accidents. All of this I managed to survive, but this one... Entity kept bothering me. This living being as heartless as it can and with a twisted mind one cannot comprehend.

My cat.

It was in fall of the 2006 I found this cat. It was sick and I just found it in the middle of the park. I took it to a veterinarian to see if she, because it was a she, had anything wrong. The doc cured the little fella. And I decided to keep it. Worst decision of my life. The cat was the reason I lost one of the two jobs and the accidents. First, the cat food made me work harder and harder, plus its needs, and one day I just exploded and they fired me because of my attitude. The accidents is because the cat was so curious. Just to give you an example; One day I came back from the office and found the cat by the dishwasher. I took him and a knife pierced my hand. Seven stitches. And this is only one example.

However, morning after morning of coffee with tasteless flavor and a dark tone in my morning, I found that day my coffee really tasty. I could just sink myself in that delicious coffee that lighted up my morning and made my tongue re-discover old taste buds it haven't used in a long time. I felt complete for a second. I felt happy.

And time went by. The coffee each morning tasted better. The world brought some colors for me to enjoy. My job at this boring office then became less and less boring somehow. And my cat stopped shitting on the carpet! For a month I was full.

Then my birthday came, October 8th. The day the shit hit the fan.

I walked upstairs to my apartment in the 3rd floor, room 312. When I took my keys and opened the door, I found such a bizarre scenario.

My cat's dead body on the carpet.

I couldn't believe it. Poor cat was... flattened. I didn't noticed the stolen TV nor the flipped couch, just the cat. I walked to the little broken figure of something it was once called a cat and picked it up. The warm blood slipped through its mouth and cuts to the carpet, painting it. I didn't cried. I didn't yelled. I didn't moved. I didn't breathed. I froze in time and space. I didn't felt anything but the soft fur of the dead body.

Police found my dead body two hours and forty two minutes later. I was hit from behind by the robber of my house with a bat pierced with nails. It was a funny view. Two dead bodies in a room, one with its brain spilled and the other a cat.

The coffee tasted good the last moth. All that month, later the cops found out, I was being drugged through my coffee thanks to the man living besides me. He was both the robber and the murderer. It's funny how things in my life went. But as always, everyone dies. When you lest expect it, you die.

Enjoy your coffee while you can.