by Nick Pirog
Red.
He looked up at me with his light brown eyes and floppy ears and wiggled his little butt. He was adorable, but I’d already made my choice; Green was coming home with us.
“Sorry, girl,” I said to Cassie.
I pushed myself up from the ground and made my way over to where Bonnie was sitting in a chair, drinking iced tea.
“I’m gonna go with Green,” I told her.
She flashed a knowing smile and said, “He’s going to be a handful,” then went into the house to grab the paperwork.
I felt a soft nuzzle on my hand and turned.
It was Cassie.
There was something in her mouth.
Red.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
Cassie dropped Red at my feet and then she did something I still haven’t heard since. She barked five times. (Cassie rarely barked and never more than three times in a row.)
Bonnie returned with the paperwork and with a scrunch of her forehead, said, “I thought you were going to take Green?”
I glanced down at Cassie, then Red—who was on his back sniffing his little wiener—and said, “Change of plans.”
~
The little puppy was an instant influx of energy and love. My flopping book, Avery’s dumping me, having to move into my parents’ house, none of these things mattered. All that mattered was the uncoordinated, flailing ball of love that had come into our lives.
I didn’t have a name for him for the first two days, but on the third day, he was chasing Cassie around and he bumped into my dresser and knocked over my Hugo plaque—an award given to the best sci-fi book each year—which I’d won for Pluto Three.
I remember picking up the plaque, then looking at the big, lumbering puppy and it clicked.
Hugo.
~
I scroll through photos for half an hour, then I grab my phone and pull up my videos. I find the most recent video and push play.
We’re in the backyard. It’s late February and we’d just gotten a crazy snow storm. There is easily three feet of powder and Hugo and Cassie are going nuts jumping, diving, and rolling in the snow.
I watch the video several times. It’s the last video of Hugo I will take. He will be dead less than forty-eight hours later.
I turn the phone off and flip the lid down on my laptop. A minute later, I’m back in bed. Cassie is next to me, licking the tears from my eyes.
Chapter 2
“REBIRTH”
Hugo
I’m awake.
At least, I think I’m awake.
But if I’m awake, I should be able to see. But I can’t see. I’m surrounded by darkness. I’ve been trying to open my eyes for the past few hours, but they won’t work. Why won’t my eyes work?
I can’t hear either.
Or smell.
But I can feel. I can feel things moving all around me. Squirming against me. I want to yell at them, “Stop touching me!” But I can’t speak either.
What is going on?
My brain is all swirly. Like when Jerry picked me up from the vet after. After they took my balls. Not my orange tennis balls. Not the ones that Jerry would throw and I would fetch. No, my balls—the ones between my legs.
I remember the drive back from the vet. My head was all swirly. And I had this stupid thing wrapped around my neck so I couldn’t see very well. And when I got home, I just wanted to sleep. That’s how I feel now.
Swirly.
And tired.
And hungry.
Luckily, there’s food a couple of inches away. I don’t know where it comes from, this magical food, but it’s there. It tastes, well, like nothing. But all I want to do is eat it. All I want is this magical elixir.
I wonder where Jerry is.
Is he the one feeding me this magical elixir?
Jerry?
Jerry?
Oh, right, I can’t bark.
What is going on?
~
It’s been days now.
I still can’t see.
I still can’t smell.
But I can hear. A little bit. Sounds are dull, but they’re there.
And my head. My head is less swirly.
Things are starting to come back to me. Images. A rabbit. Something about a rabbit.
Something is still touching me. Not something, somethings. Stay still you somethings!
And what is licking me?
Is that Cassie?
Cassie?
Cassie?
Ugh, I still can’t bark.
But I can eat. Thank God for the never-ending supply of magical elixir. It’s always there. And it tastes now. It’s sweet, like those shakes Jerry is always eating.
Where is Jerry?
Jerry?
Cassie?
What is going on?
~
Okay, it has to have been like a week by now.
The swirls are gone.
I still can’t smell. Why can’t I smell? Smelling was my thing. I miss smelling. The lake, grass, the wild mint in the backyard, cheese, bacon, Jerry, Jerry’s shirts, Jerry’s feet, Cassie, I loved smelling Cassie, mailboxes, those silver metal thingies, squirrels, rabbits.
The rabbit.
I remember now.
He jumped out right in front of me. What nerve. Going on a walk and he jumps out right there, right from the snow. He looked at me, right in the eye, then he took off. We were on the street by the place that smells like pancakes.
Jerry yelled, “No, Hugo! NO!”
But the rabbit, Jerry. The rabbit.
I pulled, pulled, pulled.
“Stop pulling, Hugo!” Jerry screamed.
I pulled harder. There was a snap. I could feel my collar come off. I was free.
The rabbit was in the street. I’d been trying to catch a rabbit for a while now, but I could never get one. Today, that would end. Today, I would get a rabbit.
I ran into the street.
“HUGO!” Jerry screamed. “HUGO!”
I was a couple of feet behind the rabbit.
Then darkness.
Then sleep.
Long sleep.
Then I woke up with the swirls.
But, like I said, the swirls are gone.
I try to open my eyes. I’ve been trying this for a week now. My eyelids, they are so heavy. Hold on, I think something happened.
Light.
Was that light?
I try again. Try to hold my eyes open for a few seconds.
Yes.
Light.
I can see.
~
I can keep my eyes open for a few hours at a time now. That’s the good news. The bad news is that although I can see, I can’t really see. All I see are blobs. The somethings that have been touching me are blobs of gray with little blobs of blue in the middle. There are five or six of these blobs, then one big blob. The big blob is connected to the magical elixir. I’m not sure how all this blob stuff works.
~
I open my eyes.
It takes me a moment.
I can’t see perfectly, but I can see much better than when I fell asleep.
I turn my head and look at the somethings—the blobs—that have been touching me for all these days.
No.
It can’t be.
The blobs.
The somethings.
They are tiny, little—
Cats!
I am surrounded by a bunch of little cats!
What is going on?
I glance up.
The big blob, the one connected to the magical elixir, is—
Oh, no.
Oh, no.
It’s a big cat.
I’ve only met a few cats, but I don’t like them. There was a big orange cat that lived in the house across the street. All it ever did was sit in the big window and do nothing. I would bark at him and nothing
. I was fifty times bigger than him, but he didn’t seem to care. Another cat would climb on our back fence every once in a while. I would bark at him and scratch at the fence and the cat would just sit there licking its paw and ignoring me. Then it would hiss at me, then run off.
Those cats were small. But the cat here, now, is huge.
Why do I feel like the magical elixir cat is bigger than me?
Why am I so small?
Why am I so small and why am I surrounded by a bunch of little cats and one big cat?
I turn and look around.
All I see is brown.
Tall brown walls on every side.
Where is Jerry?
Where is Cassie?
What is going on?
I try to bark.
Nothing comes out.
I squirm away from the little cats. My legs are all wobbly. I take a couple of steps, fall, take a couple more. I look up at the giant wall of brown. It soars high above me. But at some point, it stops and gives way to a white sky.
Why am I in this little brown house with no roof, surrounded by a bunch of little cats and one big cat that is connected to a magical elixir machine?
What is going on?
Jerry?
Cassie?
I’m scared.
I hear a voice.
I look up.
High in the sky. Is that? A human? Some sort of giant?
The giant reaches down and picks me up.
It brings me close to its face.
It’s a human.
A she-human.
A giant she-human.
“Hi there, little guy,” she says.
She rubs her finger on my head.
From up high, I look down at where the giant pulled me from. It isn’t a giant brown house. It’s a box. A cardboard box with a yellow blanket inside. The cardboard box is on the ground inside a house. An actual house. But the house isn’t mine. It isn’t where I live. It isn’t Jerry’s, Cassie’s, and my house.
The she-human holds me in one hand.
Why do I fit in a she-human’s hand? How big is this giant? Had I stumbled into a land of giant humans and giant cats?
The giant she-human says, “Say hi to the world.”
I turn around.
The giant is holding something in her hand. It’s like Jerry’s, only it seems bigger. I know it’s called a “phone.”
Sometimes when Cassie and I were lying next to Jerry on the couch, he would take out his phone and hold it up like how the giant she-human was doing now. Then I would see myself on the phone. I’m not sure how it worked. But there I was on his phone and then this little light would flash. Then I would be living on his phone. Jerry would say, “That’s a good one,” or, “You guys are such dorks,” or, “I look kind of fat in this one.”
I look at the phone the giant she-human is holding. I see her face in the phone. Her hand. There is something in her hand.
Wait.
I cock my head to the side. The something on the phone cocks its head to the side.
I open my mouth. The something on the phone opens its mouth.
Ah, barf.
I’m a cat.
Chapter 3
“GROWING UP KITTEN”
Hugo
I’m a cat.
I used to be a dog. Now I’m a cat. And not just a cat. A little cat. A baby cat.
How could I be a dog one minute and then a baby cat the next?
Is this all a dream?
It seems too real to be a dream: the five other baby cats surrounding me; the Big Cat that all the baby cats are snuggled against; the brown walls of the cardboard box; the giant she-human who comes and goes.
If it is a dream, it’s a nightmare. But if it’s a nightmare, then Jerry would have woken me up by now. I’d seen him do it with Cassie before. When she would be asleep on the bed and her legs would be twitching and she would be making these weird huffing noises. Jerry would rub her face and her ears and tell her she was just having a bad dream—“a nightmare”—and that everything would be okay.
I want Jerry to wake me up. I want Jerry to rub my face and my ears and to tell me everything will be okay. But he can’t. Because this isn’t a dream. This is real.
But if this is real, then how did it happen? How does one go about being a dog one minute and then a baby cat the next?
I have so many questions: How did this happen? Why did this happen? Where are Jerry and Cassie? Where am I? Where is my house? Where is the Lake? Where are the Mountains? Why are my nails so small and pointy?
I think maybe the Big Cat might have answers, but I can’t talk. I can open my mouth, but nothing comes out. The Big Cat stares at me when I do this, when I try to ask her a question. She’ll stare at me, then lick me, then she’ll nudge me toward one of the magical elixir faucets hidden in her light gray fur.
That’s what I’m doing now. Drinking from one of her faucets.
I’m smashed between five other baby cats who are all drinking from other faucets. After a long drink, I feel a poke on my back and turn. It’s one of the other baby cats. He pokes at me with his paw.
He’s white and light gray with a few darker gray stripes on his head. He has a tiny little black nose surrounded by white whiskers. He has small triangular ears and big blue eyes. I only saw myself on the giant she-human’s phone for a quick second, but I know I look pretty much the same. This can be said for all the baby cats, except one, who is all-gray like the Big Cat.
The baby cat pokes me again with his paw.
Oh, no, you don’t.
I lift one of my tiny pathetic little paws and push him backward. He rears back on his hind legs, then falls over. He rights himself, then he pounces on me. I fall backward. I bite him on the shoulder. He doesn’t yelp and I remember that I don’t have any teeth.
Two more baby cats join in, pouncing and tumbling. I try to inflict as much damage as I can, but the baby cats don’t seem to understand. They think I’m playing.
Finally, after a couple more minutes, the wrestling match ends. The other baby cats slink back to the Big Cat and squirm their way between the others.
I don’t.
I pad across the yellow blanket to the far corner of the box, as far away from the Big Cat and the baby cats as I can get, and curl up in a tight ball.
~
I’m starving.
I don’t know how long it’s been since my last drink from the magical faucet. I’ve stayed in my corner. Stayed curled up in a ball. The giant she-human picked me up and put me back next to the Big Cat a few times, but each time I would crawl back to my corner.
A few of the baby cats had come over. A few poked me, but I didn’t react. I was protesting. Protesting being a cat.
I almost give up a few times.
I’m so hungry.
All I can think about is the magical elixir.
I close my eyes and try to think about anything else. Anything besides food. I think about Jerry and Cassie. I think about how much I miss them. How I miss Jerry’s smelly feet. Cassie licking my ears. My orange tennis ball. Jerry throwing my orange tennis ball. Chasing the squirrels and raccoons. I miss sleeping on the bed next to Jerry. I miss Cassie resting her head on my back. And kibble. A big bowl of kibble. And bacon. And cheese.
Food.
All I can think about is food.
I open my eyes. All the baby cats are snuggled into the side of the Big Cat. I can see a couple of them drinking from the faucets.
The Big Cat stares at me. Unlike all the baby cats, her eyes are gold. She stares at me for a couple of long seconds. Then she wiggles her way out from beneath the baby cats. She walks over to me and licks my head.
Stop it, Big Cat.
She licks my body.
I said, stop it!
I feel a pinch on my neck. Then I’m floating. It takes me a moment to realize the Big Cat is holding me in her mouth. She sets me down next to
her belly, then nudges my head toward one of the pink faucets.
I don’t want to, but I open my mouth and drink.
It’s more delicious than I remember. The whole time I drink, the Big Cat licks my head.
I guess the Big Cat isn’t so bad.
~
I’ve gotten bigger. And I can make noise now. It’s not much. Just a little squeak really. But it’s something. And we are no longer in the cardboard box.
We’re in a room. I don’t know what it’s called. It has the same kind of floor—the kind that is nice and cool and where I used to sleep when it was too hot—as the place where Jerry takes his baths. But there is no bath.
There’s a big white fence in the doorway. The fence has holes in it. They are too small for me to fit through. Trust me; I tried. But I can see through the holes. I can see a couch. I can see carpet. I can see a TV. I can see the giant she-human walking around.
She visits more often now. Sometimes she’ll come into the room and sit down. She’ll take turns picking us up and petting us. She is always putting us on her phone. She’s no Jerry, but she seems like an okay human.
When she isn’t around, mostly I’ve been playing.
Yeah, I know, I’m a traitor.
I’m no closer to understanding any of this dog-into-cat stuff, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t any of the baby cats’ faults. They just want to pounce, tumble, and wrestle. They are harmless. Well, mostly harmless. They have teeth now. These tiny little daggers (I have them too). Sometimes, the baby cats bite too hard and I have to give them a whack on the head. I learned this from Cassie. It’s what she did to me when I was a baby dog and I would bite her.
These baby cats don’t know anything.
That’s the difference between them and me.
I’m a baby cat, but I know stuff. I know not to bite hard.
~
There’s a sound. I look up. I feel the other two baby cats I’m curled up with look up as well.
It’s the she-human. She’s doing something to the big white fence in the doorway. There’s a crunching sound, then the fence is moving, then it’s gone.
