But more than jealousy, I was grateful.
Grateful that he was like sunlight, bringing laughter back to my owner's side.
---
But like the fairy tales in her childhood picture books, every happy story is brief.
The young man with the cute fangs eventually left her side.
I couldn't blame him too much—after all, I'd been the one to leave her first. I could only say that this time, my owner was truly heartbroken.
She locked herself in her room, not eating or drinking.
The nightmares from her childhood returned, waking her screaming in the night, curling up in corners trembling.
"I'm alone again," she said to the endless darkness, the hope fading from her eyes.
No, no, no. I forgot she couldn't see me. I frantically jumped into her arms, meowing persistently. You still have me. Look at me, look at me!
Mercifully, a second miracle descended. On this lonely night, she could see me again.
"Bad cat." My owner broke through her tears into a smile, squishing my face with both hands until my cheeks puffed out into chubby lumps. "Where did you run off to?"
I nestled comfortably in her arms, trying to share as much warmth as I could.
Don't forget—no matter what, I'm always here with you.
---
After that, my owner and I lived a peaceful life together for several years.
Peaceful, but not entirely uneventful—many things happened. She graduated, found a job, moved, changed jobs, commuted between different cities.
Every time, she took only her simple luggage—and me.
She often said that no matter how hard work was, as soon as she came home and stroked the fur on my head, all the exhaustion and bitterness melted away.
I was honored.
But though I was reluctant to admit it, I had to face facts: my owner's life shouldn't be monopolized by me, a cat. A ghost cat, no less.
She deserved better.
---
Heaven heard my plea once more and sent another man into her life at just the right moment. But my owner, remembering the pain of her previous heartbreak, hesitated, unsure whether this man was worth trusting.
Cats are naturally perceptive, and as a ghost I could see right into people's hearts. I was absolutely certain this man's soul shone brightly, and when paired with my owner's, they'd create a beautiful resonance.
So I took matters into my own paws, doing everything I could to bring this good man and my owner together.
Don't be afraid, my owner. If he doesn't treat you well, I'll scratch him good.
She fell in love again, her face always bright with open smiles.
I figured she'd stop seeing me soon.
I was right. On her wedding day, I watched her in her wedding dress—so radiant, so beautiful—but when her gaze landed on me, her smile gradually stiffened.
I could feel my form blurring in her eyes.
But please don't be sad, I thought. Today you're the bride—don't cry and ruin your makeup.
After so many cycles of appearing and disappearing, I understood clearly: only your deepest loneliness can make me visible again.
So I'd rather you never see me again for the rest of your life.
Goodbye, my dear owner.
Please be happy.
---
Her married life was truly happy. A supportive husband, work she was passionate about, and eventually, an adorable, chubby baby.
Truly perfect.
But I started wrestling with whether to stay or go.
Watching her and her husband being lovey-dovey all the time was getting annoying.
I'm a cat. I refuse to eat dog food.
Maybe I should think about going out and seeing the world for myself? I seriously pondered, entertaining grand plans like traveling around the globe.
I was deep in thought when something grabbed my tail—a little toothy bite.
I whipped around to find the baby had my tail in her mouth, gumming it with her few tiny new teeth before letting go and grinning at me.
This... this...
This little creature could see me?!
I tested this several more times.
Turns out, this seemingly harmless little creature could indeed see me, and every time she'd pounce at me with surprising speed, yanking my tail, rubbing my belly, pulling my fur in every direction until I looked like a mess.
And she just giggled without a care in the world.
My owner and her husband couldn't see me. They assumed the baby was just happily playing by herself, relieved that she was finally content without needing to be held constantly.
Fine, I knew I wasn't going anywhere for now.
I'd be babysitter and toy, keeping the little one happy and calm so her parents could rest.
In return, the first word she learned was: "Meow."
My owner paused when she heard it, then picked up the baby and gently rocked her, still instinctively reaching out to ruffle the tiny head.
Seeing that gesture, I knew she'd never forgotten me.
That was enough. I'd stay right here—I'd always be your friend, your family.
Even if you can't see me.
---
Children grow up as fast as kittens.
In this chubby little girl, I saw echoes of my owner when we first met.
Like her mother, she loved to sit with me by the open floor-to-ceiling windows in the sunshine, and she'd often fall asleep with her little head on my belly, drooling all over me.
Ugh, I never realized human babies were this much work.
Sometimes my owner would come over and drape a small blanket over her. I recognized that blanket—from long ago, I'd snuggled under that same little blanket with my owner on winter days.
The little girl stirred as the blanket was tucked around her, and mumbled: "Mommy, cover the kitty too."
My owner froze for a second, then smiled, and tucked in the empty space beside her daughter.
The direction was completely wrong—I was lying on the other side.
But what did that matter?
---
A few years later, the little girl was starting school. When a teacher came for a home visit, she gently reminded my owner that her daughter often pretended to have a cat, and perhaps she should be gently corrected.
My owner always replied politely: "It's probably an imaginary friend. It's fine."
But after the teacher left, my owner would crouch down to eye level with her daughter and say with a mysterious smile: "You really do have a cat, don't you?"
The little girl nodded cautiously.
My owner's smile grew wider. She reached out and ruffled her hair. "Mommy had a wonderful cat when she was little, too."
---
After that, time suddenly sped up, as if someone had twisted the clock hands forward.
Before I knew it, the drooling toddler was in middle school, then away at college, then graduating, working, getting married, settling in a distant city she barely came back to visit once or twice a year.
I didn't follow her away.
She'd stopped seeing me by middle school.
By college, she'd even completely forgotten she'd ever had a cat, attributing all memories of me to childhood fantasy and imagination.
So I hadn't been seen by anyone in nearly thirty years.
Including my owner.
She was now a white-haired old woman. She and her equally elderly husband had left the big city behind, moving to a small seaside town, buying a house with a backyard, fishing, gardening, occasionally taking their little boat out to sea—living freely and peacefully.
You might wonder how I spent those thirty years.
Well, how do you think? The same way a living cat would—chasing my tail, batting at yarn, pouncing on dragonflies.
Except I couldn't catch a single live mouse anymore.
I never felt lonely.
When the people you truly care about are right in front of you, living happy lives, you never feel alone.
---
Many years later, one day, my owner's husband suddenly clutched his chest and collapsed in the kitchen. An ambulance took him to the hospital.
I knew he wouldn't be coming back.
Because when he fell, I saw a glowing soul lift from his body, circle the room twice in reluctant farewell, and then disappear.
On the day of the funeral, my owner stood at the door watching her daughter and her family leave. The sea breeze ruffled her silver hair, and her calm expression suddenly cracked, revealing deep loneliness.
Then she went back inside, poured herself a glass of water, sat at the small dining table, and started flipping through the family photo album.
Near the front was a photo of her as a little girl, standing in the yard of her old home, holding a chubby cat, laughing at the camera with a toothy gap in her smile.
She stared at that photo for a long, long time. Then she started to smile, speaking as if to the air: "I was never alone."
The next second, I appeared in front of her, walked to her side, gently nudged her leg, and said, "Meow."
---
In this seaside town, there was a story that circulated.
They said an old woman lived alone in the small house with the garden by the sea. She was kind—she gave candy to neighborhood children and picked flowers from her garden to make flower crowns for little girls.
Overall, a very nice old lady.
Just one thing was strange.
She always pretended she had a cat.
Not only did she have a full set of cat supplies in her house, on sunny afternoons she'd sit in the garden recliner, holding a cat that didn't exist, basking in the sun.
Sometimes she'd even ask passing children to try and pet the cat.
Stranger still, a number of children claimed they'd actually seen the cat, and could describe exactly what it looked like.
At first, parents were a bit concerned, but nothing ever came of it, so people just let it be. The old woman living by the sea earned a nickname.
Everyone called her the Cat Grandma.
And she smiled and accepted it happily.
---
I was a cat when I was alive.
Now, I'm a ghost cat.
Unlike other cats and dogs whose souls leave this world once they die, I lingered in the human world for many years, never moving on to the next stage.
Until my owner, on a beautifully sunny afternoon, holding me in her arms, fell asleep in her garden recliner and never woke up.
I saw her soul slowly rise from her body—a little girl again.
The same way she looked when we first met.
As I bounded joyfully toward her, I finally understood why I'd stayed as a ghost in this world all along.
I waited for you for so long.
So the road ahead—we'll walk it together too.
I'll always be with you.
Don't forget—that was our promise.
END