Most people think : "If I was a cat, I would have a great time, sleeping, eating, and just being free!" But no, If you were a cat you would totally be freaking out. You would be wondering what the heck happened, and how you would become human again. Expectation v.s. reality.


Jim opened his eyes, only semi-conscious and spent a few good minutes staring at the leg of his sofa, coming to terms with still being capable of rational thought, after he had clearly proven to himself that he was insane. It was a nice leg on the sofa. The maple wood looked warm, and homey. The dark brown looked almost as black as chocolate and swirled with the light brown wood in divine spirals. The carving was masterful and ornate. Why had he never noticed how nice the sofa was before?

Whatever Jim thought about, he tried very hard not to think about how he had believed he was transforming into a furry creature. He knew he was liable to some psychotic episodes, and he wouldn't put it past himself to be a little bit delusional, but still: there's a big difference between crazy, and hallucinating-you're-morphing-into-a-werewolf-crazy.

Jim tested his neck. It felt fine. His head ache was totally gone.

"I suppose I should get up off the floor and just go about my day as usual." Jim thought, taking one last good look at the leg on the sofa. "Where was I…shave, hair, teeth…"

Jim rolled himself over, stood up to his full height, screamed and lay back down, his heart racing in his chest like a caged bird, flapping it's wings against the bars.

"Okay, maybe I'm not as okay as I thought I was. There is no way I saw what I thought I saw. I am fine. Fine!" He screamed at himself silently.

Jim shakily rolled over again, nervous of a repeat and with trembling limbs, stood up on all-fours to his full height: about half of a foot tall.

He swayed, worried that he might faint again, but managed to keep his balance and even take a few breaths without hyperventilating.

"Okay, I'm not fine. Not fine at all. I'm less than a foot tall. I can't stand up on two legs without falling. Frankly I'm having a bit of difficulty standing on four legs, but I think I can manage." He thought.

He took one shaky step, then another, trying to manage walking with four limbs at the same time. He made his way to the kitchen slowly, after forgetting to use his back legs to walk with twice and sinking down to lie on his stomach, where he'd much rather have stayed.

Long story short: Jim made it to his dishwasher and peered into the shiny metal chrome, polished into a glimmering mirror, and made a sickening choking noise, which might have been another scream if his chest hadn't tightened into an impregnable knot just then.

Shiny yellow eyes stared back at him from a curtain of pitch black fur. He scurried back a few paces, to get a better glimpse of the situation, and realized that the apparition in the reflection scampered back too.

"Large triangle ears, yellow eyes, six white whiskers, one flicking, whispy black tail…. It can't be." Jim waved his right arm in the air, and then his left paw, and to his horror the reflection did the same.

Exhausted with the effort of all the horror he'd faced that day he sat down on his back paws; yes paws there is no denying what they were, and mutely contemplated his existence.

He was a cat.