It was a dinky apartment, barely big enough for the couch and TV in the entrance room. The couch was the most interesting part of the room, it was the ugliest pattern I had ever seen. I had not expected a ritzy environment given that she was a college student, but nothing had prepared me for the pea green, dusty orange, and pearly pink paisley monstrosity that took up most of the wall to the left of the door. The TV also looked like something out of the 70s, screen fairly big, but it was thicker than it was wide. Had I not known better. I would have sworn that somehow I had traveled back in time by a few decades.

“Here we are!” she said with a sing-song voice. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” Carefully setting me down on the couch, she clasped her hands together and looked down as me with adoration. “What should I even call you?”

Please let it be something dignified.

“I know! You’re all black like the teddy bear I had when I was little, so you’ll be ‘Teddy.”

Teddy… could be worse.

“That’s perfect for you, do you like it?”

I had no intention of answering her, but a purring meow escaped my lips anyway. It seemed that the feline part of my existence rather enjoyed the idea of finally having a name.

She happily clapped her hands together and then reached down to scratch under my chin. I lifted my head and pressed my chin against her nails, finally understanding why pets often begged for pets and scratches. When she pulled her hand away, I nearly fell over from the amount of weight I had put into the position.

“Now I have to go get cat food and a litter box,” she said, hands on her hips. “Be a good cat, Teddy, and wait for me to come back before you go to the bathroom. I promise I won’t be long.”

I stared blankly at her, the tingles from my chin slowly fading away. I was almost insulted by the insinuation that I would pee just anywhere like some animal, but I quickly remembered that that was exactly what I was to her. Instead, I inwardly sighed and laid down on the scratchy material of the couch hoping to signal to her that I wouldn’t destroy her apartment while she was gone.

With a smile, she opened the door and left, the sound of latches sliding into place as she locked it behind her. For a long moment, I stared at the door to make sure she was gone before standing my front legs up and stretching my back as far as it would go. Being carried in the ridiculous position she had held me in had left my back muscles cramped and sore. I had considered complaining, but she had seemed to mean well and I didn’t want to burst her bubble. I frowned the best a cat could manage at the thought, was I going soft? It didn’t seem quite like me to put up with something I could easily remedy.

Shaking off the bothersome idea, I hopped off the couch to go explore the rest of the space. The living room, if it was even big enough to call it that, was painted a pale yellow, like an egg yolk whipped until frothy, and the carpet was a 70’s nightmare burnt orange that felt disgustingly prickly on my paws. The floor even smelled of a long dead cat, something that she probably couldn’t even smell herself, but my feline abilities picked up on right away. Curious, I lowered my face to the fibers and inhaled deeply. Opening my mouth, I whiffed some of the scent into the Jacobson’s organ along the roof of my mouth, opening a whole other experience of something between a smell and taste. I could tell that it was another male cat who had probably lived in the apartment for at least a few years. He had been particularly found of peeing on the front leg of the couch closest to the door, solidifying my theory that the couch was indeed a true relic of the psychedelic years.

The kitchen was little better, with a stove I don’t think I would ever trust turning on. The enameled oven door that had once been pristine white, had yellowed with large patches of the enamel cracking or even fallen off entirely. The top of the stove around the burners was even worse, looking like someone had taken a bunch of yellow and brown paint and decided to paint it with large, unappealing splotches. The refrigerator did not look much better, but at least its color transition had been uniform enough to pass for it perhaps being an intentional choice of pale, buttery yellow. Inside the fridge, I could smell very old pasta with questionable sauce and assorted condiments. If I had to guess, she was truly living the life of a starving college student.

Next, I trotted to the bathroom, wrinkling my nose in disgust as soon as I crossed the threshold, there were definitely downsides to my super smell. Ignoring the smell best I could, the room was nothing special, looking like any generic bathroom in a relatively low rent area of the city. Nothing particularly stood out except for one shelf next to the bathtub that had small plastic bags full of different herbs and dried flowers. I jumped up to the top to inspect the names on the printed label of each. There was rose petals, lavender, and chamomile on the top, then basil, mint, and tarragon on the bottom. The part that intrigued me is that besides the unprofessional font on each, was the small words below the names that outlined what they were good for. They outlined uses such as peace of mind, purification, and increasing psychic abilities, it made me wonder if she used them for those purposes or if she just liked them. There were also crystals of different colors and shapes in each corner of the dingy tub along with candles. Intrigued, I tried to bring to mind what I knew about crystals and found my knowledge strangely lacking. I was familiar with most botanicals, but I had never really invested my time elsewhere.

The last room was the bedroom and walking in, my heart pounded in my furry chest, it was a magical practitioners dream. There was a large tapestry depicting the sun tarot card along with bed sheets printed with various arcane symbols. There was also a heavy scent of patchouli and other incense in the air flecked with sage and orange oil. The scent was almost overwhelming and too strong for me, it made my nose itch in a strange way. The end table next to the bed held several candles of different colors and a purple cloth printed with a large pentagram. That combined with the different salts, rocks, and herbs strewn around in the end table drawer, lead me to the conclusion that she likely identified as some kind of Wiccan or at least practiced witchcraft. This was an interesting turn of events, perhaps this wouldn’t only be a useful way to survive until the next appropriate time for the ritual.

The light from the only window in the apartment streamed over me, making my eyes feel heavy from the warmth. I wanted to continue looking around, but my feline body was not going to let me. I hopped to the top of the bed and stretched out before plopping down, kneading the blanket around me. My eyes fluttered closed and before I could even consciously prepare for sleep, I was already out.

I was woken up by someone rubbing my stomach, I stretched again and peeled open my heavy eyes to see the girl had returned. I hated not knowing her name, but there was no way I could directly ask and I hadn’t seen a name on anything in the apartment so far.

“Had a good nap?” she asked, picking me up and cradling me in her arms. “Let’s go see what I got for you.”

She carried me to the bathroom which had been fitted with a litter box and litter scented so strongly that I had to repress a gag. I wasn’t sure which I preferred, the sickly floral, chemical smell of the litter or the smell of bathroom trips long past. She set me down in the litter, the small pieces of clay uncomfortably settling into the spaces between my toes. I was grateful for having a space for my… leavings, but I had grown used to simply finding a spot of dirt, then carefully covering it.

“When you’re done, come to the kitchen and I’ll get some food ready.”

Completing my business and hating the way the liter shoved its way even farther into my paws as I covered, I hoped out of the plastic tub, giving a glance back in disgust. It still stank horribly of the insufferable floral scent, but now it also had a hint of fresh sewage. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to get used to the haunting, clinging stench. I sneezed loudly, shaking my head violently, but it did nothing to drive the scent from me. I quickly ran from the room, needing to get out of the scent cloud before I gagged myself into throwing up.

“There you are,” she chirped as I slunk into the room. “I bet you’re pretty hungry.”

I stopped just inside the door to the kitchen and settled on my haunches looking up with her with curiosity. There were several stacks of can cat food on the counter, not the cheap store kind with sad looking cats on the can label, this was a prime, national brand with regal, sophisticated cat breeds looking seriously into the camera. I didn’t understand why she would spend the extra money on it when I really wouldn’t have minded, anything had to be better than dirty rodents. Additionally, it seemed that she really should have spent the few cents worth of difference on food for herself. I hadn’t pried open any of the cabinets to check, but by the smell of it, or lack there of, there wasn’t much food stored away.

“Which do we think: turkey and peas or beef and cheddar?” She held up the cans in front of her, shaking each one in turn.

I stared at each, before realizing that I could not vocalize which I wanted either way.

“Oh, right,” she said, as if the same thought had just occurred to her. “How about we do the beef now and the turkey tomorrow morning?” She turned around, setting the cans on the counter, then popping up the pull tab and breaking the barrier to the contents with a hiss.

Instantly the air filled with the scent of low-grade beef and cheap cheese substitute. As awful as I would have typically thought it smelled as a human, it made my mouth water as a cat. The aroma was deep and rich, I could smell the protein and fat content, ambrosia compared to my typical street cat meals. Before she could tap it out onto a plate, I was on the counter, meowing loudly and bumping into her with my head for her to hurry up.

“Someone’s hungry” she giggled. Giving up putting it anywhere and instead set the open can in front of me.

I wolfed down big mouthfuls of the mush and it was the single most satisfying meal I had ever had, human or cat. I knew that I should be disgusted, but it was such a stark difference between the street meals and the can, that it didn’t actually matter how tasty it was on it’s own merit. Much too quickly the can was empty and I was left with trying to get the last vestiges of the “gravy” from the ribbed can walls.

The girl let out a long, happy sigh and retrieved the can from between my paws, then tossed it into the garbage. Before my human mind kicked it, I briefly considered the best way to knock over the garbage to get access back to the can. It felt like the longer I was stuck in this form, the harder it suppress the animalistic instincts.

Jumping down from the counter, I followed the girl into her bedroom, watching her curiously from the doorway. She was plopped onto her bed, staring at her phone. Hoping to find out more about her, I hoped up next to her, settling in on a spot where I could see her screen. She looked to me with a smile and gave me a brief scratch under the chin before returning her attention to the text conversation she was in.

“He’s right here with me right now,” she typed. “He was too adorable, I couldn’t leave him down there.”

“But you’re not allowed to have cats there!” someone named “Connie” replied.

“I know, but they won’t find out,” she rapidly typed. “I can’t remember the last time my landlord came over.”

“I guess, just don’t get yourself kicked out.”

“I won’t, I won’t. Hey, I have to go to class, but you should come over later and meet him.”

“Will do!”

The girl then darkened her screen and flopped back on the bed in a dramatic fashion. She looked to her backpack on a chair next to the bed and let out a long sigh. Looking back at me, she smiled, then pulled me to her, embracing me in a tight hug. I couldn’t really breath, but I did not complain, it seemed like she needed it.

“I have to go now, but I’ll be back by four or so,” she told me while finally giving me enough space to breath.

I tried to look at her like I understood, but I was fairly certain that I wasn’t managing anything but a blank stare. That was one of the many problems with being a cat, I was constrained by the limitations of the animal. Emoting was not a cat’s strong suit.

Once she was gone, I was left once again with the empty apartment. Having already inspected the place, I realized that I had nothing of note to keep me occupied. Usually during the day, between my many naps, I would run around outside people watching or trying to hunt for fun. Here, I could only feel the itch to scratch the nearest piece of furniture which didn’t seem like the best way to ingratiate myself to my new “owner.” Just thinking that word made me feel uneasy, it was one of the reasons I hadn’t let myself be caught before. Stopping to think about it, I wasn’t sure why I let myself be caught at all. At any point on the trek from the old chemistry building to her apartment, I could have jumped out of her arms and ran away before she could have reacted. There had been some indescribable feeling telling me that I should allow it to happen, though gut feelings had gotten me into trouble before.