A thunderclap of glass shattering jolted me upright. Springing to my feet, I threw the book I was reading on the bed and scrambled to the kitchen. There I heard my invisible cat on top of the kitchen island stalking back and forth, his tail thumping against the fruit bowl each time he passed it. 

“It appears that a vase has broken, Karen.”

“What did you do? That was my only vase,” I moaned.

“I did nothing, Karen. Can you say cross breeze? This is what you get for leaving the front and backdoor open.” 

I stared at the fragmented remains of my splashy, fragile, and once whole vase scattered on the floor for a moment before dejectedly shuffling to the closet for a broom and dustpan.

“Rest in peace, Vauzzy, the vase,” the cat said. “Your pulchritudinous likeness will be missed.”

“You can’t slip a word like pulchritudinous into everyday casual conversation,” I said, sweeping the glass into my dustpan. “Hardly anyone knows what that word means.” 

“Pulchritudinous is an adjective used to describe beauty, Karen,” he replied in his most patronizing tone. “It’s a grandiose way of saying someone or something has great physical beauty.”

“I’m aware of what the word means.”

“Then you know I used the word correctly, Karen.”

“The point I’m trying to make is the word pulchritudinous sounds more like the name of a bad infection or a terrible disease. Everyday people aren’t going to use that word to describe someone’s beauty. You could have simply said, ‘Your beauty will be missed, Vauzzy.’” 

“Yes, and I could also be dull and ordinary like you and everyone else, but I choose not to be, Karen.”

I snorted out a theatrical sigh as I dispatched the glass shards of Vauzzy now residing in my dustpan into the garbage bin.

“By the way, Karen, what were you doing in your bedroom for the last two hours?” the cat asked.

“Reading and thinking.”

“Isn’t that what your study is for, Karen?”

Glaring in the direction of the cat, I expelled another exasperated breath.

“I’m waiting for an answer, Karen.”

“I was trying to have some alone time. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t get much of that around here,” I said, slinging the broom and dustpan back into the closet.

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot. It’s all about you, Karen, day in and day out. All about you! You’re such a narcissist.”

“You would know,” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. “At least I’m not a pestering, nagging, irritating …. what’s the word I’m looking for? Oh, yeah … bore! And for the last time, my name is not Karen!” 

I could feel a vein throbbing in my forehead as I shook my head at the cat, all the while silently berating myself for ever letting him look over my shoulder at the cat memes on Twitter during our covid quarantine. (These are a few of his favorites).

“No, Karen. The word you’re looking for is nudnik. A pestering, nagging, irritating bore is known as a nudnik, and I’ll have you know, I am no such thing.”

“Agree to disagree,” I muttered under my breath.

“Would you cease your susurrations, Karen. You do more whispering, murmuring, and rustling then the breeze swishing through this room earlier, or that silly brook in your backyard for that matter.”

“Do you study the dictionary at night while I’m sleeping?”

“Of course, I do. Words are our thing, Karen. It’s how you and I connect on a deeper spiritual level. Can’t you feel it?”

I pressed a hand to my forehead. “Honestly, the only thing I’m feeling right now is a headache coming on.”

“Don’t be absurd, Karen. Incidentally, I heard you crying in the bedroom a few minutes ago.”

“You absolutely did not.”

“Why are your eyes red and why do you continue to susurrate and sigh then? You can’t be upset over Vauzzy. You and she simply weren’t that close.”

I dropped my head into my hands. Sometimes ideas have a way of coming back to bite you squarely in the backside and this was one of those times for me. I had thought getting an invisible cat during the pandemic might provide a modicum of comfort as well as the diversion and distraction I so desperately craved being so isolated from the outside world.

(Boy! Oh! Boy! Was I ever wrong)!

I hadn’t anticipated the little he-devil would insist on following me around and scrutinizing every teeny tiny detail of my life in order to make a connection with me. Nor I had I anticipated he would, in fact, be able to speak.

“Karen, you need to stop being ridiculous.”

“Mind your own business, cat.”

“Talk to me, Karen.”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, get your butt off the pity potty, Karen.”

“I’m too tired for this today. Go outside.”

“It’s raining, Karen.”

“So you’ll get wet. Toodle-oo!” I said, waving.

“I’m not going anywhere until you stop riding the whimper wagon.”

“Aaauuugh!” I stomped into the living room and plunked down on the couch. Crossing my arms, I tried to regain my composure.

I heard the cat pad into the room and sit on the floor beside me. There was a minute of blissful silence before the cat said, “Poor, Karen. Do you want me to call you the wambulance? I know how to dial whine one one.”

“Please shush and cease baiting me, cat.”

“You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself, Karen.

“And you need to stop accusing me of things I’m not actually doing,” I squawked. “Besides, even if I were having some ‘feels’ today, aren’t you the same cat that told me a month ago, ‘In order to heal you must feel?’”

“I changed my mind, Karen. Your feelings are far too complicated, and they make me uncomfortable. Your feelings are also making the dog uncomfortable.” 

“That’s not true. Rupert loves me. He is very comfortable with my feelings.”

Hearing his name, the dog sauntered into the room, ogling me adoringly with his dark brown eyes.

“Keep walking, dog. This doesn’t concern you,” the cat snapped.

“Leave him alone!”

“Stop defending him, Karen. He does not love you. That stare translates into, ‘You have hands. Open the refrigerator door and give me the chicken you keep in there.’ It has nothing to do with love.”

“Stop throwing shade at the dog, cat! He does love me and he’s perfectly comfortable with my feelings. And for your information, you can’t give someone advice about their feelings and then take it back a month later.”

“Yes, I can. I’m a cat. It’s what we do, Karen.

“Too bad. Get used to some moodiness around here besides your own. I’m learning how to sit with my feelings.”

“I’d advise trying to flee from them instead, Karen.”

“Nope. My feelings are appropriate for all the stuff going on around here.”

“Karen. Karen. Karen. Why must you always be so melodramatic? Wait. Did I miss something? Are you acting out because you’re sick?” the cat asked, sounding extremely suspicious. “You have been looking a little peaky lately.” 

“No, and I’m not the one who has been acting out around here, cat!”

“Oooo. Ooooo. Is your husband going to prison?”

“NO, HE IS NOT!” I hollered. “Why would you ask me something like that?”

“Are you sure? He has no regard for the rules of society. He constantly jaywalks and the other day I even saw him twerking in the backyard. He’s scaring the birds, Karen.”

“You little nutbag! Go away!” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Karen! That’s where I draw the line. I might perhaps be classified as a tad oppositional from time to time, but nutbag … never!

“I beg to differ.”

“You’re no fun to be around when you are like this, Karen. Why must you wallow? Do you want to live your life in eternal misery?”

“I am not wallowing in anything … except maybe my deep, deep regret for getting an invisible cat. Please just leave me alone.”

“Never.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut. “Do you want me to give you away?”

“That’s low even for you, Karen. Threatening a cat’s security for trying to distract you and cheer you up?”

“Oh, that’s what you’re trying to do?” I said, glaring in the cat’s direction. “You’re terrible at it.”

“You’re mean as a hornet, Karen.”

“Last chance,” I warned through gritted teeth as I strode into my study and sat down at the computer.

“I must tell you I think it is highly unlikely you’ll be able to give an invisible kitty away,” the cat said, sauntering into the study after me.

“Wanna make a bet? I’m sitting down to write a blog post right this minute.”

“People are going to think you’re a lunatic, Karen.”

“Not to worry, cat. I’m pretty sure that ship has already sailed.”

The cat hurrumphed. “Not only has it sailed … you’re the captain of the ship, Karen McCuckcoo. Don’t blame me when this all goes south, and the crazies are fighting over me in your front yard.”

“That’s it,” I said, my fingers flying over the keyboard in a dizzying tizzy.

Free to a good home:  One extremely snarky and highly annoying invisible nudnick of a cat who periodically likes to pretend he is a princess on the back deck. Goes by the name of Bizness, and I promise he’ll be all up in yours. Don’t miss this one-of-a-kind opportunity. Hit me up, people. Please, I’m begging you!