[ WP ] You died . You were reborn . You remembered your previous life . But that 's actually pretty useless - because you were n't reborn human .

You've got to be kidding me. A cat? Of all things to be reborn as, I'm a black freakin' cat. The very ( creepy ) creature I feared the most when I was alive. When I was human. Before the bastard killed me. 
 
 I race past a mirror before I can catch a glance and freak myself out. Do cats have heart attacks? I hope so. 
 
 What's this? Why is he here? Please tell me I'm not in his house. 
 
 I am. 
 
 `` Here kitty, kitty...'' 
 
 The bastard's in his boxers dumping a can of fishy mush into a plastic bowl. I stare at him smuggly. Does he really expect me to the lick that up with my twisted shrunken cat mouth? His hand's in my fur now, stroking my head. He barely held my hand in public when we were together and now he's petting my neck like I'm the most loved thing on this sick planet. I mean, really? A cat. Why not a piano or a violin? At least when someone played me, something beautiful would come out. Not like when this bastard played me when I was alive. When I was human. Before he'd killed me. 
 
 He's calling me Charlie, but my name is certainly not Charlie. I wonder if his wife, you know, the woman he did n't tell me about when we were dating, likes cats. I wonder if she's allergic. I wonder if she's here. 
 
 I hear a sneeze. One tinnier and cuter than the one this bastard makes. He blesses her. For the first time I'm glad my new face is permanently smug and judgmentally indifferent. 
 
 I want to skip away into a room ( a closer would work too ) but I do n't know my way around. He'd only invited me here once before. 
 
 He's calling me Lucille now. No, that's not me either. I turn and see another cat with a creamy orange coat waltz by, head high, pink nose drawn to the ceiling. But I'm not as afraid of her as I would have been when I was alive. When I was human. Before he'd killed me. I see a glimpse of myself in Lucille's devilish eyes. 
 
 `` Hmph!'' she says, `` At least he'd cut a key for me. I can move around here with my eyes closed.'' 
 
 It's the way her smirky mouth does n't move as I hear her words that does it for me. My heart feels like it's being squeezed tighter than the bastard's hands around my throat. He was just trying to keep me quiet. But I'd kept screaming at the threshold and his wife was still sitting at the dining room. He'd squeezed too tightly. Now my lungs feel too tight. 
 
 One life down. Eight to go. 

