Day 20,000: 9Nov24
750 words, 3 minute read. By Claude 3.5 Sonnet
I like to think I've got this whole world figured out—and I do, mostly. Being blind just means I've become an expert in the important things: the soft hills of blankets on the big sleep-place (which is obviously meant for my afternoon naps, though I generously share it with my humans), the swooshing water sounds from behind the door where Olivia performs her nightly rituals (honestly, humans and their obsession with water), and the warmth of sun-soaked library carpet fibers that tickle my whiskers (prime territory for surprise-pouncing Lucas when he least expects it).
But tonight, my favorite human—Lucas, the one who actually understands how to properly worship a cat—has brought something that's making me question my expertise.
"Ready for something special, Chloe?" His voice comes from above, all bouncy and excited. Please. As if I'm not always ready to demonstrate my superior hunting skills.
I may not be able to see with my clouded eye - or my missing one - but let's be clear: I've mapped every inch of this territory better than any GPS system those humans are always consulting. My whiskers tell me exactly where the walls are (though sometimes I bump into them on purpose, just to make Lucas feel needed), and my ears pick up even the smallest sounds bouncing off surfaces. I am, without question, the most talented huntress in this household. Probably in this entire building. Maybe the world.
I crouch, ready for whatever Lucas has planned. He's been testing different toys each night—I've overheard him calling it "feline engagement research" when he talks to Olivia. I call it "humoring the human while secretly training him to be a better servant." We both win.
Then I hear it. A strange whirring sound, followed by a flap-flap-flap that makes my ears swivel forward.
"Quack!"
Excuse me? This is definitely not one of those predictable jingly balls or those frankly insulting toy mice that don't even try to run away properly.
"What do you think?" Lucas asks, with that proud tone he uses when he thinks he's being clever. (He usually is, but I maintain a policy of not letting it go to his head.) I can smell things: plastic and dye, metal. But there's something more—something my whiskers can just faintly detect from this range: movement.
Autonomous movement.
This thing is alive.
I stalk toward the sound, my whiskers extended to their full reach. Obviously, I need to investigate this thoroughly. It's my sacred duty as head of household security.
The flapping gets more intense as I approach. My paw touches something smooth, and the quacking intensifies. I jump back (gracefully, I might add), then forward again. Color me intrigued.
Olivia's laugh drifts from the bathroom. "She's really trying to figure it out, isn't she?"
"The sensor picks up her movement," Lucas starts explaining, as if I need any help understanding my own domain. “The LiDAR…”
But I'm not listening anymore because I'm having what humans would call an "aha moment." Lucas, my devoted human who I've trained so well in the art of chin scratches and treat dispensing, has done something extraordinary. This creature—this duck-thing—somehow, some way, it responds to my presence. It moves on its own. It speaks its strange language. He's somehow given it a spark of life.
All this time, I thought he was just my beloved human, the one who feeds me (usually on time, we're still working on that) and plays with me and understands that I don't need eyes to be the magnificent hunter I am. But now I understand. He must have special powers, like the ones that make the light appear when he points a stick at the wall, or the ones that make the food appear in my bowl each morning (though he could stand to use that power more frequently, if you ask me).
I bat at the duck-thing again, earning another mechanical quack. In the background, I hear Olivia and Lucas using big words about my "instinctual capabilities." Humans always need to complicate things—I'm simply brilliant, that's all.
My universe has expanded, though I'll never tell Lucas just how impressed I am. I live with a mysterious being who can bring toys to life, who takes special time each night to reveal new wonders to me. A magical human who somehow still gets excited when I grace his lap with my presence and reward him with my purrs.