There was a point not so long ago that I lived with four cats, a dozen fish, ten chickens, and a dog. The chickens and fish started going first. Then Shurik died and Amaya ran away and it was just Kione and Clementine along with Winston. Clementine died last year, and Winston died a little more than a month ago. So, now it’s just Kione (or Kiki) and me. She’s become a very different cat. When Clementine was around, Kiki treated her like her kitten and was very maternal and reserved; Clementine was the “perma-kitten” to Kiki’s quiet resolve.

Not anymore. Kiki has found her voice. Just this morning I was trying to eek out a little more sleep and Kiki very vocally let me know her wet food was not down at the proper time. When I do feed her (FYI, Fern, bless her soul, got up and fed Kiki this morning to let me sleep) Kiki mews and rawrs and meows like she’s grumbling that I’m not fast enough. At around 16, She’s settling into her golden years and feeling herself and her single-cat-ness. Okay, Kiki, I get it. This one’s for you.

I’m not a cat person. I’m not a dog person. No, I’m just not a pet person, full stop. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t like cats or dog – I absolutely love them… so long as someone else is doing the feeding, the cleaning, and the maintenance. If I can pet them, hug them, play with them and then give them back? Perfect.

Talking to my friends it also makes finding a new place a lot easier. It took Susan three months to find a place that would allow her to have her three cats. Alan’s rottweiler required him to have a special codicil on his renter’s insurance in case the dog went mental and mauled someone.

Me? I got this tiny little detached house behind a bigger apartment unit. I think it used to be the caretaker’s cottage back when that was a thing and housing prices were such that you could afford to have a whole place just for that. It’s 400 square feet of adorableness as far as I’m concerned – I even have a little garden with a little café table between me and the apartment block. It’s my Eden.

It’s perfect. At least it was, that is, until I found out it was haunted.

Four a.m. and I’m dead to the world… until the meowing starts.

“Mew, mew, mew” came quietly into my dream. Then, when I clearly wasn’t taking the hint, full on “Meow! Meow! Meow!”

“The hell?” I wondered if I left a window open or something. I peered over the edge of the bed loft and sure enough, prowling around down there was a lanky gray and white cat.

“Meow!” it crowed as it rubbed against the ladder. “MEOW!” it insisted as it brushed against the tire of my bike.

“How in the hell did you get in here?” I asked as I started down the ladder. The cat walked towards the front door as I got down.

“Meow?”

“Yeah, you! How’d you get in here?”

“Meow!”

“That’s helpful,” I said. Then grumbled to myself, “I don’t know what I was expecting…”

I reached down to pick the cat up and my hands went right through it. “What the?” I staggered backwards in shock.

“Ghost cat?”

“Sounds like it,” Carrie said at lunch.

“Definitely,” Susan agreed. “After Muffin died last year, I swear I could hear him sometimes.”

“Okay, yeah, but this isn’t a ‘sometimes I hear my beloved pet.’ This is some damned cat is haunting my new house.”

“Look on the bright side,” Carrie said. “At least you don’t have to change its litter box!” She crinkled her brow. “Unless… you don’t think it leaves some kind of… spooky dookie around?”

We all laughed. “No, thankfully no spectral turds. Just a loud wake up call at 4am all weekend.”

“It’s hungry,” Susan said.

“For my soul,” I intoned menacingly.

“Seriously,” Susan continued. “Cupcake and Cheeto let me know if I haven’t fed them straight away after I get up. Cheeto will go so far as to walk on my face.”

“Cheeto? Cupcake? And Muffin?” Carrie said. “Girl, you should not name your cats when you’re hungry.”

“So, I just need to get some ghost cat chow…” I started.

“I don’t know, maybe start with real cat food,” Susan offered.

I thought about it. “Eh, couldn’t hurt.”

I picked up a small bag of cat chow on the way home. Next morning, like clockwork the phantom gray and white cat started its 4am serenade. “Meow! Meow!”

“Hold your ghostly horses,” I said coming down the steps. I got a bowl out of the kitchen and set it down next to the fridge and filled it with kibble. “There,” I said and started back to the ladder.

“Meow! Meow!” It demanded.

“You have food!”

It walked to the front door. “Meow!”

“You want to go out? Just go through it! You’re a ghost.”

“Meow!”

“Fine!” I opened the door. The cat just looked at me like I was stupid.

“MEOW!”

“What?!” I asked. Then I got it, “Oh, you want your food outside. Okay. Whatever.” I retrieved the bowl from the kitchen and set it just outside the front door.

The cat sauntered out, stood by the food, and mewed what I took to be a contented “better. That’ll do, human.”

I went back inside and got another couple hours of blissful, meow-less sleep.

When I opened the door and wheeled my bicycle out to go to work, the cat food was empty. “Hungry little ghost,” I said but knew that couldn’t be right. I shrugged, locked my door and headed out.

The next day was the same 4am wake up meow. Fed her – I’ve decided my ghost cat is a she – and went back to bed. Food was empty when I went out at seven.

Lather, rinse, repeat, and by the time I had to buy a new bag of cat chow, I decided to get one of those video monitors to see if, I don’t know, the ghost cat ate the food. More likely, I though, I’d see a giant, plump racoon snarfing down on ghost cat’s breakfast.

But that wasn’t what I saw.

A few days later I was reviewing the video on my phone. There I am, all sleepy girl in my ratty bathrobe and slippers, setting out a bowl of food and new water (yeah, I figured even ghost cats get thirsty). No ghost in frame, though, seriously? I expected be the first person to catch a ghost on film? And it’s a cat? Yeah, don’t think so…

Anyway, food and water down, I can be heard telling ghost cat, “Bon Appetit,” and closing the door behind me. A few minutes later, a little emaciated black kitty comes out of the brush tentatively. It’s looking at something near the food. It was looking at the ghost cat. It tilts its head and rubs it against something in midair—the ghost cat! Then it starts purring so loudly that the camera picks it up as it hungrily starts eating the food. When it finishes, the kitty curls up on next to one of the rose planters and damned if I couldn’t make out the impression of a ghost kitty tongue grooming the contended little kitty.

4am the next day, the meowing wakes me. “You’ve got a friend!” I tell the ghost cat as I get the food ready.

“Meow!”

“That’s why you’re here! For her!”

“Mew!”

“You’re a good little ghost cat, aren’t you!” I said setting the food down. “Say hi to your living friend, and Bon Appetit,” and closed the door.

The next day after I closed the door, I went to my computer instead of back to bed. I pulled up the live video and waited until the kitty was well into devouring the food. I padded quietly to the door and slowly, quietly, opened it. The kitty was too busy eating to notice me at first, but as the door opened wide enough for me to step out, the kitty’s head popped up, and it spun and started back to the hedges.

“MEOW!” I looked down and the ghost cat was by my ankles. “Meow, meow, meow!” it said and the kitty stopped by the hedge and turned around warily.

“Meow!”

The kitty started back towards the food, slowly, eyes focused on me.

“Meow.”

The kitty resumed eating, but eyed me.

“Mew!” Ghost cat said to me.

I stepped out and the ghost cat moved to stand right next to the eating kitty. “Mew,” it said again.

I reached out a hand and the ghost cat meowed comfortingly to the kitty. I touched the kitty’s soft black fur. It tensed. “Mew!” Ghost cat said again. The kitty relaxed and started eating again and let me pet her. And started purring. Her little motor was humming! She finished eating and instead of retreating, let me pet her more. She had no tags or collar and she clearly was too skinny to be taken care of by anyone.

“I guess I have a cat now,” I said as the black kitty rubbed its face against my hand insistently.

“Meow!” the ghost cat said.

“Sorry, I guess I have two cats now.”