The Black Cat

You are not going¹ to believe² this story. But it is a true³ story, as⁴ true as I sit here writing⁵ it—as true as I will die⁶ in the morning. Yes, this story ends with my end, with my death⁷ tomorrow.

    I have always been a kind and loving⁸ person⁹—everyone will tell you this. They will also tell you that I have always loved animals more than anything. When I was¹⁰ a little boy, my family always had¹¹ many different animals round the house. As I grew up, I spent most of my time with them, giving them their food and cleaning them.

    I married¹² when I was very young, and I was happy to find that my wife¹³ loved all of our animal friends as much as I did¹⁴. She bought us the most beautiful animals. We had all sorts¹⁵ of birds, gold fish, a fine dog and a cat.

    The cat was a very large and beautiful animal. He was black, black all over, and very intelligent¹⁶. He was so intelligent that my wife often laughed about what some people believe; some people believe that all black cats are evil¹⁷, enemies¹⁸ in a cat's body.

    Pluto¹⁹—this was the cat's name—was my favourite. It was always I who gave²⁰ him his food, and he followed me everywhere. I often had to stop him from following²¹ me through the streets! For years, he and I lived happily²² together, the best of friends.

    But during²³ those years I was slowly²⁴ changing. It was that evil enemy²⁶ of Man called Drink who was changing me. I was not the kind, loving person people knew before. I grew more and more selfish²⁷. I was often suddenly²⁸ angry about unimportant²⁹ things. I began to use bad language³⁰, most of all with my wife. I even³¹ hit her sometimes. And by that time, of course³², I was often doing horrible³³ things to our animals. I hit all of them—but never Pluto. But, my illness³⁴ was getting worse—oh yes, drink is an illness! Soon I began to hurt my dear Pluto too.

    I remember that night very well. I came³⁵ home late, full of drink again. I could³⁶ not understand why Pluto was not pleased³⁷ to see me. The cat was staying away from me. My Pluto did not want to come near me! I caught him and picked³⁸ him up, holding him strongly. He was afraid of me and bit³⁹ my hand.

    Suddenly, I was not myself⁴⁰ any more. Someone⁴¹ else was in my body: someone evil, and mad⁴² with drink! I took⁴³ my knife from my pocket⁴⁴, held the poor animal by his neck and cut out one of his eyes.

    The next morning, my mind⁴⁵ was full of pain⁴⁶ and horror⁴⁷ when I woke⁴⁸ up. I was deeply⁴⁹ sorry. I could not understand how I could do such⁵⁰ an evil thing. But drink soon helped me to forget.

    Slowly the cat got⁵¹ better. Soon he felt no more pain. There was now only an ugly dry hole where the eye once was. He began to go round the house as usual⁵² again. He never came near me now, of course, and he ran⁵³ away when I went too close.

    I knew he didn't love me any more. At first I was sad. Then, slowly, I started to feel angry, and I did another terrible⁵⁴ thing . . .

    I had to do it—I could not stop myself. I did it with a terrible sadness⁵⁵ in my heart—because I knew it was evil. And that was why I did it—yes! I did it because I knew it was evil. What did I do? I caught the cat and hung⁵⁶ him by his neck from a tree until⁵⁷ he was dead⁵⁸.

    That night I woke up suddenly—my bed was on fire. I heard people outside shouting, 'Fire! Fire!' Our house was burning⁶¹! I, my wife and our servant⁶² were lucky⁶³ to escape⁶⁴. We stood⁶⁵ and watched as the house burned down to the ground⁶⁶.

    There was nothing left of the building the next morning. All the walls fell⁶⁷ down during the night, except⁶⁸ one - a wall in the middle of the house. I realized⁶⁹ why this wall did not burn⁶⁰: because there was new plaster⁷⁰ on it. The plaster was still quite wet.

    I was surprised⁷¹ to see a crowd⁷² of people next to the wall. They were talking, and seemed⁷³ to be quite excited⁷⁴. I went closer and looked over their shoulders. I saw⁷⁵ a black shape in the new white plaster. It was the shape of large cat, hanging²⁵ by its neck.
    I looked at the shape with complete⁷⁶ horror. Several⁷⁷ minutes passed before I could think clearly⁷⁸ again. I knew I had to try to think clearly. I had to know why it was there.

    I remembered hanging the cat in the garden of the house next door. During the fire the garden was full of people. Probably⁷⁹, someone cut the dead cat from the tree and threw it through the window—to try and wake⁸⁰ me. The falling walls pressed⁸¹ the animal's body into the fresh⁸² plaster. The cat burned completely⁸³, leaving the black shape in the new plaster. Yes, I was sure that was what happened.

    But I could not forget that black shape for months. I even saw it in my dreams⁸⁴. I began to feel sad about losing⁸⁵ the animal. So I began to look for another one. I looked mostly⁸⁶ in the poor parts⁸⁷ of our town where I went drinking. I searched⁸⁸ for another black cat, of the same size⁸⁹ and type⁹⁰ as Pluto.

    One night, as I sat⁹¹ in a dark⁹² and dirty drinking-house, I noticed⁹³ a black object⁹⁴ on top of a cupboard, near some bottles of wine⁹⁵. I was surprised when I saw it. 'I looked at those bottles a few⁹⁶ minutes ago,' I thought⁹⁷, 'and I am sure that object was not there before . . .'
    I got up, and went to see what it was. I put my hand up, touched it, and found⁹⁸ that it was a black cat - a very large one, as large as Pluto. He looked like Pluto too - in every way but one: Pluto did not have a white hair anywhere⁹⁹ on his body; this cat had a large white shape on his front.

    He got up when I touched him, and pressed the side⁵⁹ of his head against¹⁰⁰ my hand several times. He liked me. This was the animal I was looking for! He continued¹⁰¹ to be very friendly¹⁰² and later¹⁰³, when I left, he followed me into the street. He came all the way home with me— we now had another house - and came inside¹⁰⁴. He immediately¹⁰⁵ jumped up on to the most comfortable¹⁰⁶ chair and went to sleep. He stayed with us, of course. He loved both of us and very soon he became¹⁰⁷ my wife's favourite animal.