How would you like to walk into a dark kitchen in the morning and see this? Why does she just sit there, silently, staring at me, like those girls in “The Shining”? It’s like she’s daring me to walk by her. She knows I have to get to the coffee pronto.
I’ll be doing laundry, and I’ll turn, and she’ll be sitting a few feet away, staring at me. Or when I’m cooking. Or in the pitch-dark hallway outside my room. She’s so dark, I won’t see her sitting there, but I’ll see those eyes, staring at me unblinking. There is something deeply wrong with this cat.