One morning, as I woke from disturbing dreams, I discovered that while in bed I had been changed to a cute and cuddly cat. I lay on my warm and furry back, as I lifted my head up a little, my soft black tummy stretched out and vulnerable. At this size the blanket, nearly engulfing me completely, seemed very huge and thick. My hairy paws, so dainty and cute to go with the rest of me, curled and flexed before my eyes.

“What’s happened to me,” I thought. It was no dream. My room, a proper room for a human being, only a little too cluttered, lay quietly between the four familiar walls. Bathroom to the left, the closet next, then a white set of drawers, the chest, the art supplies, and the electronic keyboard draped over with stuffed animals. They sat erect there, their fuzzy faces smiling and furry arms reaching out.

My glance then turned to the window. The spring weather—nice and cool in the morning but shining on bright new leaves as the sun continued to rise—made me quite content. “Why don’t I keep sleeping for a little while longer and forget I’m supposed to be human,” I thought. But this was entirely impractical, for I’d have to eat eventually, and in my present state I couldn’t possibly feed myself. No matter how I tried to figure it out, I knew that without opposable thumbs I was cat shit out of luck. I must have thought it over a hundred times, closing my eyes in half sleep, and gave up only when I realized that I’m so cute and cuddly, someone will probably feed me.

This entry was inspired by Question #121 in The Book of Questions, page 105: Were you able to wake up tomorrow in the body of someone else, would you do so? Whom would you pick?

My answer? I’d probably stick with my own body, but if I had to choose, I’d pick my cat or any other pampered cat. They have it nice and easy.

This entry was also inspired by Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis.

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