The idiomatic French expression, “appeler un chat un chat” literally translates to “calling a cat a cat.” Figuratively, it’s the ability to speak honestly to one another, shameless enough so that bygones be bygones. That’s how I felt with my literal cat. I could feel my inner cat-lady bubbling up inside me, as I went over to tap his nose.

-

“Hey!” I cried, finding half his body in my bowl of udon. I ran back to my coffee table, milk dripping from my hands, and groaned in defeat, falling to my knees.

He was pawing around the plastic bowl like his life depended on it. He was surprisingly neat about it, lapping up the soup eagerly, and munching on the carrots thoughtfully. If it wasn’t my dinner, it probably would’ve been adorable. He was eating quickly, and I wondered when was the last time he had a meal. I his side, and placed the bowl of milk next to him. “You really don’t have a home?”

He paused in his consumption to give me another compromising look. Obviously not.

I really, really shouldn't be picking up strays. My first home and I'm already making unfavorable decisions.

"Fine." I conceded, picking him up, "But if anyone asks, you were mine from the start. Deal?"

He mewed in appreciation, nudging his nose against my fingers.

Seriously, who can resist Myungkitty!?!?!? 

entry for: Elite Writing Contest