New Tampa, Florida, June, 2007. A bond between an animal and its owner is greater than any other type of relationship. This became ever so apparent to me on a mid-summer night in June.
My mother, two sisters, and two brothers left to go on vacation for their summer break. I had just started a new job and my schedule called for me to work the week they were going up North, so unfortunately I had to stay behind.
During this time, I owned a cat that was inseparable from my leg. She danced around my feet all hours of the day and constantly stayed by my side, which is exactly where I wanted her to be -- my little shadow.
On the first night my family left, I decided to stay up late watching a movie and talking to my boyfriend on the phone, a typical night for me, actually. Once the movie finished, I realized I was way too tired to climb the stairs to sleep, so I thought I would just sleep in my mom's king-sized bed downstairs (quite a comfortable bed) since she was gone for a week anyway, no harm done.
After dozing off, I felt something strange: a weird kind of pressure looming over me. An indescribable panic washed over my body quite rapidly. Suddenly, a loud, screeching, almost heart-wrenching squeal broke the silence of the room, startling me to the point that my body jerked away to find that awful sound.
At my feet, my cat was hissing and screaming as though she was being threatened, or I was being threatened. I saw nothing, not a single thing was standing where she was swatting her paws in anger. Her sharp claws pierced the air, but nothing else. she continued to hiss. The hair on her back was spiked high, her tail puffed out in fear, but most starling, her eyes were glowing with a strange orange as she stared at this blank wall screeching in horror.
I freaked out, calling her name and backing away from her, too scared to know what I should do in this situation. After another half minute of this peculiar activity, she suddenly sat back, panting. Her hair slowly fell back down and she began licking her paws. Trembling from fear, I reached over to her back to pet her. She turned, purring and licked my hand.
I don't know what was at the foot of my mom's bed that night or what could have frightened my cat to that extreme, but it was the last time I ever slept in her bed.
When my mother returned from her trip, I was telling her about what happened. Her face turned white and she told me, "the same thing happened to me a few days before I left!"
Regardless, my mother kept her bed and since the incident would awaken a few times a year to call out for us to come and help her. Now she has long since gotten rid of that bed, but I couldn't go without sharing this story with at least one other person.
