Ghost Cat
I once had a ghost cat. No, I mean, a real ghost. And I don’t think it was one of my past pets.
We lived at the time in a century home in Aurora, Ontario. I used to see a little grey cat running along out the corner of my eye. When I turned my head properly to look, it would always “melt” into the floor or furniture. And it particularly seemed to like to run along my piano keyboard.
Since my dad was terminally ill and I was under a lot of stress, I put it down as a figment of my imagination. Then my friend Rosemary brought her mother to visit. I had never mentioned my little ghost to either of them.
As I was making tea, Rosemary’s practical mother suddenly piped up with: “Did you know you have a ghost cat?” She went on to cheerfully relay how she had seen it run into the dining room and “melt” into the floor.
That’s when I first realized my ghost cat might be “real”. (It was eventually seen and commented on by 4 or 5 incidental visitors.)
Now, a ghost cat is the sort of paranormal phenomenon I don’t mind at all. I even invited it to come and live with us, when we moved. It didn’t. I think it was part of that particular house, which produced two other paranormal experiences while I was there. (In spite of that, I have to admit, it was one of the most pleasant houses I’ve ever lived in.)
They do say that animals sense supernatural phenomenon. But having had a Siamese (namely, the Minkmeister) I now have another explanation.
I think they just like suddenly freezing and staring intently at Nothing with their hackles raised (usually while one is watching “Ghost Hunters” or “Most Haunted”). Every self-respecting cat automatically knows, it’s fun to scare the bejabbers out of your owner on a dark and stormy night.
Besides which, Minkey is a little softie, for all his attitude. At the first sign of a real ghost, he’d probably run up my shirt and hide!
