My cat, Kingpin, is adopted. Not the normal adoption where you fill forms and sign papers at the end. No. This one was different. It was a Saturday night. I was taking a walk with Peter, who lived a few streets away. Nothing serious, Just taking. And that was when we saw her. A beautiful grey cat with her tail pointing straight up, walking on the short grass by the side of the road. Her head down, like she was searching for food. She looked really hungry.
“Beautiful cat,” I said, pointing my phone torch toward her.
Peter agreed. “She looks hungry too.”
Now, I’ve always wanted a cat, but you know how sometimes you want something but you don’t really expect it to happen right there and then? That was how I felt. I said, half joking, “Let’s adopt her.”
Peter said, “Why not?” And suddenly it was more serious than I meant it to be.
I had a piece of sausage with me, the one I’d been biting before we left the house. I offered her a piece. She came closer, cautiously, grabbed it and ran off. Fearful. But still hungry. I left the bigger piece there on the grass and walked away.
When I saw Peter off and was walking back to my house, guess what? The cat was still there. This time she was meowing at me, like she had been waiting. I stopped, walked back a little. She followed. I walked forward, she followed again. That was when I called Peter's number. “Yo, man, this cat is still here, and she’s following me.”
He came back right away, laughing and saying, “That’s your cat now. Adopt it.”
That was how she followed me home. No leash, no box, nothing. She just followed me straight into the compound and into my apartment. From that day, she became an indoor cat, hating the outdoors, though that was where I found her. I named her Kingpin.
Fast forward nine months later. Just last week. Kingpin had built a strange relationship with my office chair. I work from home, and she sits there all day like it’s her throne, except when she’s running around doing cat things, scratching the couch or jumping on the table when I’m not looking.
That day I was on the couch opposite, watching her. We were blinking at each other like we were communicating without words. Then I faced my laptop. Barely five minutes later I raised my head and she was gone. Vanished.
I called out, “Kingpinnnnn.” Checked under the table. Checked behind the chair. Curtains. Windows. She likes to stand there sometimes, watching the world outside that she hates so much. Nothing. I went to my room, sister’s room, toilets, nothing. Kitchen verandah. No Kingpin.
For about fifteen minutes I searched. Every corner. Every little space. I was sure by then, Kingpin was no longer in the house.
Now, here’s where things got scary. I’m African, and cats here are often associated with witchcraft. “Get a dog,” my mom always said. “Cats are evil. I won’t come visiting if you keep that thing.” I never believed it. To me cats were just animals like dogs. My argument was always, if spirits can possess cats, then why not dogs too? But at that moment, I wasn’t so sure anymore.
This cat had disappeared. Just like that. No sound. No trace. I sat down, shaking a little, trying to distract myself but I couldn’t. There’s no way she was still inside. I told myself, this is witchcraft. I started praying.
I thought back to how I found her that night. Was this a setup? Did I bring something strange into my house by mistake?
I went back into my room for one last search, ready to call my pastor after, and there she was in the hallway, walking casually like she had just returned from a meeting.
I was terrified. I dropped her outside the door and shut it.
“You’re not coming in again,” I said.
But after an hour of arguing with myself, I let her back in. I tried to convince myself she must have been in the kitchen all along, but deep down I wasn’t buying it.
Since then I started treating her like a suspect. Watching her closely.
Today, Saturday, I was cleaning the house. Kingpin was at my doorway when someone knocked. I dropped the mop and went out. Kingpin ran fast into the living room like she thought I was coming for her. I ignored it, let the visitor in. Tanya, my friend.
We talked, laughed. Then she asked, “Where’s your cat?”
That was when I realised again. No Kingpin. Missing. I told her the story from last week. She shook her head and said, “When you see her again, throw her out. She doesn’t belong here.”
We searched together. No sign. She agreed the cat wasn’t in the house. After ten minutes we gave up. Tanya had brought food, so we sat in the dining to eat.
And right there, as I lifted my first spoonful, Kingpin appeared. Meowing, walking straight towards the food like nothing had happened. I jumped up. “No. Not again. Out of this house.” I chased her, and she ran behind the couch. I followed her immediately, determined to catch her.
And that was when the mystery solved itself. Kingpin jumped into the small opening behind the couch. I bent down and saw it. A tiny space she had widened into a hideout. That’s where she’d been hiding.
Not witchcraft. Not spirits. Just my cat being smart. But the fear she gave me those two days, I won’t forget it soon.
This happened last Saturday.
