As a child, I always hated visiting my Grandma Elena.

The woman herself was never anything but kind to me–but her cat was something else.

His name was Miffy, and I was terrified of him.

He was an enormous male calico–as large as I was back then–and I’m sure my fear made him seem even bigger. Sometimes I’d wake up in the middle of the night with his heavy, purring weight on top of me, the tips of his claws raking my chest as he kneaded the blankets.

I could, you know, his sneering amber eyes seemed to say.

I could tear your throat open with these claws or pluck out your eyes with these teeth–and there’s nothing you could do about it.

Miffy would hunt me through Grandma Elena’s house like a lion stalking a gazelle, making me jump with fear or drop what I was holding when he’d silently weave between my legs.

As he watched me curse and pick up the pieces, I would’ve sworn his purrs sounded like laughter. He loved to hide my toys atop the highest wardrobe and watch me struggle to reach them, or run off with my nicest shirt between his teeth, forcing me to give chase until he got bored and dropped it into the mud.

Of course, I was the one who got punished for such things–never Miffy.

In fact, Grandma Elena’s whole life seemed to revolve around her cat.

His huge, hideous featherbed sat in the center of the living room like a throne, and Grandma Elena’s furniture and curtains were purple because–according to her–purple was Miffy’s favorite color. We watched nature documentaries and old war movies because those were Miffy’s favorite shows, and we ate our meals whenever Miffy was hungry.

If Miffy narrowed his eyes at Grandma after his porcelain plate was licked clean, she’d always give him more. The raw amount of meat and seafood the big cat could devour in one sitting was nothing short of amazing.

It was during feeding time that I first began to understand that there was more to Grandma Elena’s relationship with Miffy than met the eye; I realized, for the first time, that she was as afraid of the big cat as I was–

And I could see why.

I still remember the first and only time I dared to strike a blow at Miffy. It was late afternoon toward the end of summer; I was on my way back from the community pool. The day had turned overcast and chilly, and I just wanted to get inside and wrap up in Grandma Elena’s fuzziest towel. I was fumbling for the keys when Miffy pounced out of nowhere, ripping my swimsuit to shreds. I blushed and tried to cover myself, sure that at any moment one of the neighbors–or, God forbid, my crush Kimberly–might pass by, only to see me naked and fighting with a housecat.

For Miffy, keeping me outside was part of the fun.

He scratched and bit at my most vulnerable parts, driving me away from the door and into the field behind Grandma Elena’s house.

Broken reeds cut my tender bare feet and the chill wind made me shiver, but I didn't dare stop–

Not with Miffy's razor-sharp claws right behind me.

I'd never before realized just how helpless and defenseless humans really were compared to other animals. The big cat was just too quick. If I tried to circle back to the house, he'd bound into my path with a low, rumbling growl.

Enraged, I grabbed a stick and swung at the big feline.

He slipped beneath my blow and sank his teeth into my wrist until I shrieked and dropped my makeshift weapon. I’d never seen so much blood before; the wound was so deep it made me dizzy, and I could hear my pulse in my ears.

Had Miffy’s teeth really done this? I wondered as I ran.

The cold, pain, and embarrassment made me want to cry: I was being bullied by a housecat.

I’m sure Miffy would've kept after me until I collapsed from exhaustion, but it began to rain–and Miffy hated being wet.

Grandma Elena came running out with a towel and gauze; she took me to the Emergency Room right away. The doctor said I’d need stitches, and he refused to believe that my bite was from a cat.

“A tiger, maybe!” he laughed–but I didn’t think it was funny.

My parents didn’t bring me back to Grandma Elena’s after that. I couldn’t help but feel that it was because I wasn’t safe there, not anymore. Not after daring to raise a hand against Miffy.

I didn’t see my Grandma Elena again until her funeral a few weeks ago.

After the ceremony, a bald bespectacled lawyer cornered me in the cemetery parking lot.

He informed me that my grandmother had named me her sole heir, and while I wouldn’t be inheriting much more than a dilapidated house and a few hundred dollars, I still needed to stay in town for a few days to complete the paperwork. He pressed a spare key to my grandmother’s house into my palm with a sympathetic smile and told me that I was welcome to use the house while everything got sorted out.

The only problem was, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Doubts and questions buzzed through my head as I drove past dead fields and rusted factories, but one in particular stood out: was Miffy still alive?

It was impossible. Over fifteen years had passed since the big calico had taken a chunk out of my wrist, and he’d been old then. The gloom of twilight deepened as I entered neighborhoods I hadn’t seen or thought of since childhood, familiar and yet alien all at once.

I suppose it was foolish of me to think that some things never change.

Paint chipped from the sides of Grandma Elena’s once clean and welcoming home; dead leaves overflowed from the gutters and onto the roof like a rotting fungus. In the darkness of the bay window, purple curtains rustled slightly.

I felt a twinge of guilt in my gut: I should have visited. I could have helped with this…

But then again, I thought bitterly as I parked and walked up the overgrown driveway, what about my parents? Shouldn’t all this have been their responsibility? Come to think of it, they’d been acting strange throughout the entire funeral. Instead of grieving, it was like my parents had been holding their breath, waiting for some terrible fate to fall upon them…

I twisted the key in the lock and shouldered open the sagging door.

The power had been shut off; the house was dark.

A foul, musty smell pervaded in the stuffy air.

I advanced through the pitch-black house by the light of my phone, looking for the circuit breaker. Knick-knacks and furniture rose out of the darkness like freakish deep-sea creatures, demented shapes from childhood memories that I’d done my best to forget…

A rocking chair half-covered by a threadbare purple blanket.

Dusty shelves lined with porcelain statues and framed family photos that, for some reason, had all been flipped upside-down.

A stack of moldering porcelain dishes…and cat toys scattered across the floor.

I had an awful feeling that I wasn’t alone in Grandma Elena’s house.

I stopped and listened; I could barely make out the sound of four-legged footsteps, but where was–

A pair of enormous golden eyes opened a few feet above my head.

I screamed, jumped back, and shined my light upwards.

Miffy had grown bigger and fatter than ever…and he was crawling on the ceiling.

His hideously-long, arm-thick tail swung from side to side like a pendulum counting down to some horrible fate.

I let out a low moan as the big cat rotated his head upside-down so that we were looking into each other’s eyes–

Miffy bared his teeth in a grin and dropped from the ceiling.

I backed away in horror; the thing advancing on me in the shaky light of my phone was the size of a large dog. I tried to tell myself that cats didn’t understand concepts like revenge…but then again, they weren’t supposed to be able to climb upside-down or twist their heads completely around, either.

As I fled to the kitchen, that cloying smell became nearly unbearable.

What have you been eating all this time, Miffy?

I nearly tripped over the half-eaten remains of the poodle on the floor. Based on the shattered glass and broken plates, Miffy had somehow broken the kitchen window and dragged it inside.

The enormous cat in front of me let out a low, dangerous growl. I shielded my face with my arms as he pounced up on the table, grabbed a bowl in his mouth, and slid it toward me across the gore-streaked tile floor.

He then sprang onto the counter, swatted a drawer open, and pawed at a can opener.

“You…you want me to feed you?” I couldn’t believe this was happening. Miffy growled again, his eyes narrowing. With trembling fingers, I began to point to the cans in Grandma Elena’s pantry. Miffy didn’t stop growling until my finger landed on a family-sized tin of tuna.

I ratcheted it open, dumped it into a bowl, and bolted for my car while Miffy ate.

“Hello, animal control?” I asked, after dialing the first appropriate number I found. “I’d like to report a large, aggressive feline at–” as soon as I gave the cheerful woman on the other end of the line the address, her tone changed.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t service that area.”

“You don’t…?” I couldn’t believe it. They were less than half a mile away.

“Sorry, sir. I don’t make the rules.”

I tried the next company. The gruff voice that picked up sounded a lot more promising, until I told him the road I was calling from.

“Real funny, aren’t ya, asshole?” Click.

The last extermination and critter control business in town put me on hold after I gave them Grandma Elena’s address, and never took me off of it. I had just hung up when I heard claws scratching against the roof of my car.

Miffy was trying to get in.

The cat was clearly a menace–if he was even a cat at all. He’d killed at least one pet…and maybe larger things as well.

If I reversed quickly, then accelerated hard and crushed him beneath my tires…well, I’d be doing the world a favor, wouldn’t I? There didn’t seem to be any other way to get rid of him.

Heart thundering in my chest, I put my plan into action.

I never imagined I’d feel pity for the beast that had tormented me throughout my childhood, but as I heard the two loud bumps and smelt the burning exhaust, a sick knot formed in my stomach. At least I’ll give him a decent burial, I thought–

But when I got out of the car, Miffy was gone.

I stood blinking in the damp, chilly darkness of my grandmother’s driveway.

It was impossible. I’d run over the old bastard–twice!

That disquieting knot in my gut grew even tighter as I climbed nervously back into my car. Even though my apartment was a five-hour drive away, there was no way I’d be staying in Grandma Elena’s house, not with the disgusting sight in the kitchen and that monstrous cat on the loose.

Back on the highway, I finally felt my breathing return to normal.

Maybe I never needed to set foot in that awful house again. I’d hire a cleaning service to take care of the…mess…in the kitchen, and get a real estate agent to sell the place…

The sheer relief of leaving it all behind had me whistling as I bounced up the steps to my apartment. I flipped on the lights, kicked off my shoes, and slid down the hall to the bathroom, where–

Wait. Hadn’t I left the shower curtain open when I left?

Enormous claws shredded through the plastic as Miffy pounced.

Not even trying to rationalize the insane situation, I fled to my bedroom, locking the door behind me and backing against the opposite wall.

But Miffy slipped through the one-inch crack at the bottom of the door like some horrible, boneless creature and bounded over to where I cowered.

His enormous weight on my shoulders was almost enough to knock me to the floor.

I felt something press against my eyeball, but it took me a moment to realize what it was:

An impossibly long claw that barely grazed my pupil.

I could, you know. Miffy seemed to say, just as he had when I was child. If I wanted to, I could…

My phone rang. The big cat leapt from my head, allowing me to answer.

It was my mother–and she was crying.

“It’s there with you, isn’t it?” she sobbed. I didn’t reply; I didn’t have to. My silence said more than words ever could. “Oh God! I’m so, so sorry, honey.”

“What…what is this thing?” Miffy blinked lazily. Go ahead, he seemed to say. Talk all you want, it won’t change a thing. “What was Grandma Elena taking care of all these years, mom?”

“It’s been in the family for, generations, who knows how long. By all rights it should have come to me, but after what it did to daddy I just can’t…I’d have a breakdown…I wouldn’t be able to do what it wanted and it would kill me, don’t you see? It HAD to be you!”

“...Daddy…you mean my Grandpa Ron? I thought he was killed in a car accident!”

“Honey, your grandpa…he tried to kill it. Read all these weird old books and had these special bullets made, silver ones, with little symbols carved on them…but it didn’t work. And when it came back…its revenge was *terrible…*what it did to him in the woodshed…” my mother broke down into tears. “Just do what it wants, okay, honey? Don’t make it angry, and you might have a chance to live a semi-normal life…”

“But how did this happen? Why did it come to us?” I shouted–

But my mother was inconsolable. I couldn’t make out what she was trying to say through her heaving, hyperventilating breaths, and eventually the line went dead.

When I called back, there was no answer.

I looked at the monstrous feline on my bed and took a deep breath.

Okay, so I had to take care of my family’s evil, immortal cat. So what? Didn’t my mother just say that all of my ancestors had done the same thing, and got along just fine?

I suddenly thought of my grandfather. Grandpa Ron, who I’d never met. Grandpa Ron, who hadn’t died in a car accident. Grandpa Ron, who Miffy had apparently tortured to death in the woodshed. I shuddered, got to my feet…and prepared to begin my new life as Caretaker.

I soon learned what Grandma Elena had seemingly long understood: catering to Miffy’s every want and desire was a full-time job.

Little by little, the color scheme of my apartment changed to shades of purple. Black-and-white war movies or nature documentaries blared from the television twenty-four hours a day. I returned to my grandmother's house to retrieve Miffy’s porcelain bowls and featherbed, and stocked up on the reeking, fishy foods that the big cat craved.

Miffy couldn’t speak, but he always found a way to express what he wanted–

With a glare, a purr, a growl, or a razor-sharp claw.

When I failed and had to be…corrected…I began to blame myself. If Miffy’s saucer of milk was too hot or if my voice was too loud, it was my fault for failing to anticipate his desires. The worst part wasn’t the long, bleeding scratches I saw in the mirror; it was believing that I deserved them.

I think I could have endured the pain and constant fear, but I began to overheard hushed discussions amongst my neighbors: conversations about feeling a strange ‘presence’ in their homes at night, about leftovers mysteriously vanishing…and about huge golden eyes that appeared in the darkness.

That‘s when I realized that Miffy’s real toys weren’t stuffed animals or balls of yarn…they were the people around him.

“Lost Pet” signs began to go up around the block; I thought of the gory mess of poodle that I’d scrubbed from Grandma Elena’s kitchen floor and got a sinking feeling in my stomach. But it wasn’t until a young boy vanished from the apartment complex playground that I began to search for an escape from my job as Miffy’s caretaker.

After all, until I did, all the pain of the people and animals around me would be my responsibility. I was the cause of Miffy’s awful shadow falling over their lives.

When I thought Miffy wasn’t watching, I’d sneak onto forums to read about methods…methods like rope, a razor, exhaust fumes, or pills.

On the day that I’d made up my mind to go through with it, I woke to find three innocuous souvenirs on my pillow.

My mother’s battered old gardening hat.

My father’s favorite tie.

A swimsuit top that belonged to Kimberly, my crush–

And at that moment, I understood.

If I abandoned my duties as caretaker, Miffy would move on to one of them. If no one was left in my family, he’d move on to the family of the girl I loved, bringing suffering to untold generations of her family. There was no easy way out of this.

In the years since then, I’ve gotten used to having Miffy in the house.

I’ve gotten used to making midnight grocery runs to avoid a punishment, used to sympathizing with the golden-eyed night terrors of my nearest neighbors.

Used to the way people and pets nearby tend to…disappear.

I thought I’d seen it all, until Miffy recently did something he’d never done before: he brought home another cat. A female cat. I didn’t understand why at first, but now her belly is getting bigger and I think…I think she’s going to have kittens.

Anybody want a free cat?

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