Other stories for this prompt

He didn't think he was much of a cat person until he met Matilda.

When Luke first set eyes on Matilda in the local cafe he knew it was her. It was HER. His one and true love. She just didn't know it yet...

Every day he'd see her and two months rolled on by before he introduced himself.

"Hello, my name's Luke and you are?" he asked one morning nervously.
"Matilda..." she replied cautiously.

Matilda! Oh Matilda Matilda Matilda! What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman!

A few awkward seconds ticked past.
"I um...I've seen you around and...

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Matilda was the first woman he'd ever dated that had been a cat before surgery. She told him at the end of the third outing, to the Italian restaurant, a night of sexual tension, sweaty waiters, mixed up menus and his clumsiness knocking over the carafe of white wine over her lap. She smiled, pink lipstick still intact after a meal of coiled pasta and mince. No leaping up off the chair in horror, running to the bathroom, telling him to F O and never call again.

Matilda held his arm as they left the restaurant and stood looking over...

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Matilda changed a great many things in my empty life. I started to wonder if a meal could be too good after such a long time being hungry....?

She filled a vacuum that was up until her kept quelled with the useless, busy ennui that consumes most our days.
Pleasing people who didn't care a whit about pleasing us. Satisfying faceless clients who lived miles away.

She made life real again.

Matilda, her cat taught me a great deal, too.

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That fucking cat. How is despised that insignificant ball of mutualized space.

How is its calico and limber body silently creeped around corner, caused my jaw to clench and my palms to quiver. I would do anything to take that rodent and dismember it's jointed body.

Don't get me wrong I am not one to be murderous or even harmful for that matter, but my hatred for that that fury thing lingers in every moment of its presence.

Why couldn't she just leave it to suffer that gloomy saturday? The pound was stale and seeped with death, just where that...

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He didn't think he was much of a cat person until he met Matilda. He'd found her one morning in a battered cardboard box on his doorstep and, seeing her huge green eyes and tiny paws, took her into the house. But he didn't know then that Matilda was a very special cat.

The first couple of years passed and Matilda grew from a small ball of fluff into a fully grown feline with glossy black fur. But it was the third year that Matilda began to change dramatically.

The black began to fall away to be replaced by bright...

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He didn't think he was much of a cat person until he met Matilda.

It was a long, lazy summer afternoon in the local park. She was swinging gently on one of the children's swings, fingers interwoven with the metal chains, face turned up to the sun. He didn't notice her at first, lying stomach-down on the grass with his nose buried in a book. But his attention wandered briefly from the page and came to rest upon her slim figure and there was something about her that captured his attention.

She was oblivious. She arched her back, stretched her...

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He didn't think he was much of a cat person until he met Matilda. She's even worse at this cat-human hybrid lifestyle than I am, he thought. He laughed derisively. I've got to do something about my derisive laugh, he thought. And maybe start talking aloud.
Matilda was trying to scratch a sofa, and failing miserably. "She's got no claws, that's her problem," he said aloud. Matilda turned and glared. "Oops, I should not have said that aloud," he said aloud.
"Oink," said Matilda.
"No, no, it's meow. Cats say meow. Pigs say oink. We are not pigs." I had...

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He didn't think he was much of a cat person until he met Matilda. But DAMN could she cook. Now most people wouldn't eat a cat, but he was hungry. Starving actually. And he could eat about anything after hunting zombies. Cats couldn't turn into zombies for some weird biological reason. They were about all that were left. Them and rats, but who wants to eat a rat. Not Zeke the zombie killer.
Matilda was just happy to have some company. Company that wasn't trying to eat her.
They had stewwed kittens tonight. It was a special night. Zeke had...

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The coat was ragged. No, not ragged - raggedy. Tatterdemalion in some circles. Tatty, to his mother.

Love, to Matilda.

She slept in the pockets, wrapped herself in the arms and nibbled anxiously at the buttons.


He'd worn this coat for years. Navy blue pea coat from the army surplus store downtown, his first grown-up purchase. He lived alone then. He went to school, paid his book fees and came home to his one-room flat with a lukewarm kettle and a dusty sleeping bag on the floor.

He'd never had a pet. Allergies always did him in.

Then Matilda...

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He didn't think he was much of a cat person until he met Matilda. Matilda was a small, scraggy, skinny cat (or maybe kitten, he wasn't completely sure) who had turned up out of nowhere on the day he moved into the house.

Obviously a stray, with patches of pale pink skin shining through the missing squares of black fur, his heart ached when he saw her. An actual, physical pain which surprised him. He was not a caring person. He scrabbled through boxes marked 'KITCHEN' until he found an old tin of tuna that had been shoved to the...

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About the prompt

He didn't think he was much of a cat person until he met Matilda.
Prompt suggested by DazedPuckBunny
Originally displayed on:
September 14, 2010


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