[Jody Mills' 3rd POV]

When I opened my front door, the last thing I expected to see was a cat the size of a damn lynx sitting on my porch, grinning at me like it was in some cosmic joke I didn't understand.

For a good few seconds, all I could do was stare, my brain trying to catch up with what my eyes were seeing. It wasn't just the size that threw me off—though it was freakishly big—but that grin. I mean, what kind of cat smiles like that?

Its teeth gleamed in the dim porch light, each one sharp and unnaturally white, framed by a grin that seemed to stretch too wide for its face. Its glowing turquoise eyes locked onto mine, unblinking, slitted pupils watching my every move like it knew something I didn't. And the damn thing was just sitting there, calm as you please, like it belonged.

I should have slammed the door right then and there. Hell, I've seen enough weird stuff in this job to know that when something doesn't feel right, it usually isn't. But for some reason—maybe exhaustion, maybe curiosity—I stayed put, hand gripping the door frame as I tried to make sense of what was happening.

"What... in the world...?" I muttered, my voice barely a whisper.

The cat didn't move, just kept staring with that unsettling smile. Its fur, a silver-grey color streaked with swirling black stripes, seemed to shimmer in the light, almost like it was... moving. Rippling, maybe. Like shadows wasn't quite sure where to settle on it. It looked unreal, but there it was, sitting on my damn porch.

I stepped back, my fingers brushing the gun at my hip, but I didn't draw it. Not yet. It hadn't done anything, it hadn't moved an inch. And for whatever reason, I didn't get the sense that it was going to pounce on me. But that didn't make it any less disturbing.

I tried to process what I was looking at. Big cat. Creepy grin. Glowing eyes. Silver fur. There was nothing normal about this, and no way this was some kind of pet. Maybe it was a trick, a prank—someone trying to mess with me. But the longer I looked, the more I realized that wasn't it. There was something... off. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but my gut was screaming at me to stay on high alert.

I took another cautious step back, the wooden floor creaking beneath my boots. The cat's eyes followed the movement, but it didn't flinch. That grin never wavered.

Stay calm, Mills. It's just a cat. A big, creepy, possibly supernatural cat, but still.

I reached for my phone on the small table next to the door, my hand moving slowly, never breaking eye contact with the creature. I wasn't sure who I was going to call—animal control sure as hell wasn't prepared for something like this—but I needed to do something.

But then, the cat shifted. Just slightly. Its grin widened if that was even possible, and I swear the stripes on its fur seemed to ripple like a mirage. My heart skipped a beat, and for a split second, I was sure it was about to leap at me. But it didn't. It just sat there, grinning that impossible grin.

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to keep it together. Okay. Fine. Don't panic.

I lowered my hand, deciding not to call anyone just yet. What would I even say? 'Hi, yes, there's a giant grinning cat on my porch. No, I'm not crazy.'

Instead, I took a step forward, slowly, carefully, as if testing the waters.

"Shoo. Go on, now." My voice came out firmer than I felt.

Nothing. It didn't even blink.

I waved my hand in its direction, a half-hearted attempt to get it to leave, but the cat remained perfectly still like it was enjoying the show.

Great. I'm having a standoff with a cat.

I stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring down this oversized feline that had somehow made my porch its territory. My mind raced with questions—Where did it come from? Why was it here? What the hell was it?—but no answers came.

And then, something changed. But not in the way I expected.

I blinked, trying to clear my head, thinking maybe I was seeing things. My hand stayed firmly on the grip of my gun, muscles tense and ready for anything. It raised one massive silver-grey paw, the dark stripes on its fur rippling slightly in the moonlight, and reached up toward the door.

At first, I didn't understand what it was doing. Then my breath caught as I watched, completely dumbfounded, as the cat hooked its paw around the doorknob and twisted it. Not just nudging it or pawing at it in that clumsy way animals do when they're trying to open something—but actually twisting the knob with precision, as if it knew exactly how doors worked.

"What the—" I gasped, instinctively stepping back.

The door clicked open, and the cat sat there for a moment, its unnerving grin still plastered on its face, then nudged the door wider with its paw, pushing it open as casually as if it owned the place.

That's not normal. My mind raced, but my body froze. It was the middle of the night, I was staring down a giant grinning cat that knew how to open doors, and my tired brain couldn't process the sheer absurdity of it all.

And then it hit me—a sudden, sharp epiphany that sliced through the fog of confusion.

This has to be a dream. It was the only explanation that made any sense. After the long day, the late-night paperwork, and the exhaustion—my brain was just playing tricks on me. It had to be. Giant grinning cats don't exist. This doesn't exist.

I let out a shaky laugh, more out of relief than anything. Of course, this was a dream. And like any dream, all I had to do was roll with it until I woke up. No point in fighting it.

"Right, okay..." I muttered to myself, rubbing my eyes as if that would somehow wake me up from this absurd situation. "I'm just gonna… go to bed. Deal with this in the morning."

The cat stepped inside, its massive form moving gracefully as if it knew it belonged there. It wandered past me and into the house like it owned the place, glancing back at me only once before padding down the hallway.

I watched it go, my hand still on my gun but no longer tense. It was just a dream. Everything would be normal in the morning.

With that comforting (if slightly irrational) thought, I shook my head, shut the door behind me, and trudged upstairs. I barely made it to my room before collapsing into bed, too tired to care about the strange events of the night.

I woke up with the sun streaming through the blinds, blinking groggily as the memory of the night before slowly trickled back into my mind. A giant cat, glowing eyes, a wide grin… Must've been one hell of a dream.

I rubbed my face and yawned, rolling out of bed. As I shuffled toward the kitchen, my mind began to clear, and I was already thinking about how ridiculous the whole thing had been. Of course, it was a dream.

But as I made my way downstairs, that certainty came to a screeching halt.

There, lying stretched out on my couch, was the same silver-grey cat from last night. Its striped fur shimmered faintly in the morning light, and even in sleep, that damn grin was still plastered across its face.

I froze in my tracks, my heart leaping into my throat.

"You've got to be kidding me."

It wasn't a dream. It wasn't some figment of my imagination. The giant, grinning cat was real. And it had made itself comfortable on my couch like this was some kind of vacation spot for oversized felines with creepy smiles.

For a solid minute, I just stared, my mind struggling to catch up with reality. The cat was real. It had opened my door, walked into my house, and now it was lounging like it owned the place.

"Well, this is just fantastic," I muttered under my breath, trying to calm the rising panic in my chest.

The cat's ears twitched, but it didn't wake up.

Okay, Jody, think. My mind raced for answers. What the hell was I supposed to do with a cat this size? Call animal control? Tell them what? "Oh, hi, yeah, there's a giant, grinning cat in my living room, and it knows how to open doors." Sure. That'll go well.

I needed a plan. First, I had to figure out what this thing was. It clearly wasn't a regular cat, and no one in their right mind would believe me if I told them what happened.

I grabbed my phone and opened the web browser. "Let's start with 'giant cat with glowing eyes,'" I muttered, typing it in. The search results were... strange. Folklore, mythological creatures, cryptids—none of it seemed quite right. But as I scrolled through the pages, one thing kept popping up: the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.

I frowned. That can't be right. The Cheshire Cat? From a storybook?

But the more I read, the more unsettlingly familiar the descriptions became. A grinning, disappearing cat with glowing eyes, a knack for riddles, and the ability to defy logic and reality. The pieces started to fit, but it was absurd. This was fiction.

Right?

I stared at the screen for a long moment, my stomach twisting. Could this thing really be... that?

The cat shifted slightly on the couch, rolling onto its side, completely unconcerned with my growing anxiety. It was still asleep, still grinning.

I had to deal with this. I was the sheriff, for God's sake. I could handle strange things. I'd dealt with worse—well, maybe not worse, but definitely weird. I wasn't going to let some oversized cat with a creepy smile get the best of me.

My plan? First, wait for the cat to wake up and see what it does next. Maybe it would leave on its own, maybe it was just passing through—whatever "passing through" meant for a creature like this. If it showed any sign of aggression, I'd figure out how to deal with it then. But for now, I needed to gather more information.

And above all, I needed coffee.

"Alright, you overgrown housecat," I muttered as I headed to the kitchen, "let's see what your deal is."

The cat's grin didn't change. But somehow, I knew it was already one step ahead of me.