the panther

Hi friends #hive and #Caturday hope you are very well it's panther my big brother's cat he has beautiful eyes he is never home he always wanders around other people's houses I wish my writings were as mysterious as the cats

There are days when I wake up and I don't remember anything and I don't know where I am. And I hear noises in my head as if someone was scratching a blackboard with his fingernails. Days when I don't recognize myself and I see a face in the mirror as disoriented as I am. I look for references around the house and objects appear strange, I do not identify the people who appear in framed photographs that smile at me from time. I sleepwalk down the hallway, arrive at a kitchen painted blood red above the white tiles, and make myself a coffee. My hands go to the right cupboards and pull out the coffee, cookies, cup and saucer, the taste of coffee is familiar and that reassures me. It is an early 20th century house, large and with very high ceilings, plaster moldings forming rosettes framing the ceilings. A black cat arrives, rubs against my pants, there's an empty bowl and a bag of feed next to it. I put some in and it purrs around me. He hears a noise, I see a glint in the slits of his green eyes and he runs off. Suddenly a door in the hallway opens and a woman's voice says: Fany, are you up yet? I sit in the kitchen with my coffee already cold and now I realize that I don't have a cat and I live alone.

I believe that cats are spirits incarnate.
I have the feeling that I was a cat in another life