I smelled her even from the door. The whole place was filled with her strong scent: I knew immediately it was her home, not mine. Why did Missy bring me here?

Missy showed me around the rooms, not letting my leash go, which gave some sense of security. But no matter where we went, the cat’s smell was everywhere. I saw her, too, in the arms of another human, who shared a scent with Missy and the cat as well, she smiled (the human that is) but it was scary, it was dishonest, it was dangerous. She didn’t like me.

I kept close to Missy. She liked me, I knew it somehow, she liked me without reserve, without conditions, but she also liked the cat. I heard it in her voice when she said the cat’s name:

“Hello Sissy!”

It was their home, the cat’s, Missy’s and the old lady’s, whom Missy called mum. What was I doing here?

***

During the first few days, I felt it better not to look at the cat. I did once, and she screamed at me, and it caused a big commotion with everyone. But she kept taunting me. She walked around, like she owned the place, and she probably did.

“It’s mine'” she said as she passed me in the corridor.

“They are my humans!” she whispered from the living room. “You’re not gonna take them!”

I got used to her scent, but her words scared me. I wanted to silence the cat but I couldn’t hurt her, and there was nowhere to go. How to play this then? I needed to ignore her, ignore her completely.

Sissy left me alone for a while, but I always felt her watching me. Then one day, she came to our room. I jumped up. What was I supposed to do now, I wondered. Missy said nothing, just watched us, the contentment coming off her in waves. Right, so I was still to do nothing. I looked ahead, careful not to lock eyes with the cat, but fixing them on a spot on the wall. It’s gonna be ok, it’s gonna be ok, I kept my mantra going.

Sissy slowly walked around, with confidence but carefully as well. She did watch me, constantly, but not dangerously, sniffing into my direction but keeping her distance. Then she jumped up.

Wow, did she jump high! She landed higher than Missy’s head! I was impressed. But didn’t show it. She was already full of herself, didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

“So what are you?” she asked from above. I still didn’t dare to look up.

“Me?” I had enough courage to ask. Talking couldn’t hurt.

“Well, I know who Missy is. She is my play-pal. Are you my play-pal?” she said and sat down to lick her toes.

“I doubt it” I said. But it made me think. What was I? What was my purpose here? Did Missy bring here for the cat?

“Yes, you don’t look too fun” Sissy agreed, and yawned. She turned around, arrogantly showing me her back, and laid down. She knew I couldn’t, I wouldn’t hurt her. But still, it was bad form showing it that openly.

Her question did worry me for a couple days, but then Missy and me, we moved to our place, just the two of us. And thus I got it: she and I weren’t play-pals like the cat, we were for life. We were soul-pals.