She is staring at me right now. With her lazy, drooping eyelids hiding the malicious intent  behind her glower. One may take a quick glance at the seemingly innocent face of Emma, my lovely cat, and come to the assumption that she could not hurt a fly, but I know better.

Now I know better.

She seemed cute at the time, a tiny kitten curled up in a ball in the corner of her cage at the adoption center. Emma was the runt of the litter, and being the friendly 10 year old boy I was, I wanted to make her feel less lonely. When I asked the caretaker if I could pet her, she raised her eyebrows at me and replied, “Are you sure?”, as if she already knew what I was getting myself in to. I stubbornly asked for Emma again, so she went to go get her. Once she was in my lap, she quivered in fear of the dangers that lied beyond her cage. After quite a while of petting, Emma finally began to feel safe in my lap, and that was when I decided I wanted her. When I asked my parents if I could get her, my dad asked straight away, “Why is she so ugly?”. My mom, however, agreed, and we took her home that very day.

Although I thought Emma was beginning to feel comfortable with me, for the next few days, she hid under beds and couches just to get away from me. I yanked her out of her hiding spots until she eventually discovered the crevice behind the washing machine. I was afraid Emma would never come to like me, but my mom assured me that it was only a matter of time.

When the time came that Emma was comfortable being herself in our home, it was a lot different than I had anticipated. Every time I would call her name, she would always ignore me as if I did not even exist. She turned our home into her palace where she followed no laws. She ruled with an iron fist over the innocent insects and lizards that once roamed peacefully. The sweet little kitten I thought I knew, was in reality a brutal and vicious hunter that enjoyed torturing other animals. Instead of killing and eating lizards straight away, she would elongate their eventual deaths for her amusement, letting prey escape and regain hope just to catch them all over again. When she grew bored of the inside, she would sit at windows and dream of turning the peaceful doves outside into her quarry.

Emma might be evil and disobedient, yet when people ask if I am a “cat person”, I still reply yes. I know that I may sayI absolutely despise Emma, but the truth is I know I would be devastated if anything happened to her. It is hard to explain, but I know I have a special place in Emma’s mischievous heart as well.