Day: unknown
"What? But he's a boy!" Confusion and panic zip my very veins together.
"Honey, you're in denial. Someone get her out of here!" The woman in the white coat says sternly. Surely not. It can't be. He's a boy. He's a boy. He can't be pregnant! What the heck is going on?!
"NO!" I yell to the men in white coats. "That's impossible! Wait! At least explain!" I look to my father for help but he only shakes his head at me. He's just as confused as I am. I'm absolutely flabbergasted. And that's the first and last time I hold that word in my vocabulary. I mentally shoo the ridiculous thought away.
This is OC. OC. He's a boy. He can't be pregnant. Impossible. This is too real, too sudden. I don't even remember how I got here, it's just THAT confusing.
"I'm sorry, ma'am." The short woman says to my step-mother. White. It's everywhere. White coats. He's a cat. A male cat. How is that even possible? These people are absolutely insane!
'Hear her out.' The logical part of me says.
'But this is crazy!' I reply to my second inner self.
'How will you find out anything if you are kicked out of the room? Calm down. Take a deep breath. Feel your surroundings and find the mood. Find it and act accordingly.' This particular voice is always so calm and collected and ever so quick to command me. It's stupid. But it always tells me the right things.
I do as it says. This is—
No, I tell myself. Stop. The impossible isn't impossible. And who says it's impossible? You? Who are you to deem something incapable of happening?
Yeah, ok, fair enough, voice.
I look the woman in the eyes and she explains the situation.
"Your cat is not obese. He is pregnant. There is a fertilized egg inside him. Well, more than fertilized. Since your pet is unable to give birth to babies, we must cut him open. We have never done this on a male cat before but I'm sure he will be fine with the right care."
It's like this woman is a vet and suddenly knows the answer to all the world's animalistic problems.
For some reason, some stupid reason: they begin the operation immediately without even asking us to leave. Now it was getting even more strange. I started crying, suddenly emotional. If they don't even have the sense to take us out of here, there's no way they will have the sense to correctly C section my male cat. He's just a fat, lazy, and semi-friendly cat. He's no mother. And he's going to feed his cats with breast milk? Yeah, I don't think so. Not when he's healing from a slice to the gut!
I want to ask my parents if they are as worried as I am but I don't see them anywhere now. I don't see anyone except the woman and two men in lab coats using a scalpel to slice open my cat. MY CAT! Why are they doing this?
It suddenly feels like the whole world is fading to gray and I feel it all slipping into a deep, slimy hole. I can't follow it because it's too far gone.
"HEY!" I hear. I know what's happening. They're going to take me out of this stupid operation room! Thank god. I don't want to see this.
"Hey, get up!"
Wait what? I AM up! I'm up and watching this horrific thing in front of me. My cat. My poor cat. He can't be pregnant.
"Mom said to wake up! Don't you have an appointment today?" Oh god. The appointment? Does this mean I have to relive it again? OC's appointment?
I feel a shake on my shoulder. What is this? It feels so distant.
My eyes twinkle awake and I look at the time on my phone. It's 11:06am.
No! My appointment is at 11 and I haven't even got my therapist to text me back! Oh God this is horrible!
My sister walks back in, says something rude, and storms out again. She doesn't have to try and act like my mom. The girl is—
Oh hush it, Kirsten, you should be getting up.
Yeah, I should be getting up. That's right. But I was supposed to set up that Skype account because of the— wait, because of the what? Oh, yeah... Quarantine.
Wait, what about OC?
Shut up, Kirsten. It was just another too-real dream: just another product of sleeping for long periods of time.
This quarantine has me all messed up inside. Now I'm dreaming about my boy cat being pregnant and having a surgery and me being all emotional about it. Something is seriously up with my brain.
One day my dream will be so real that I won't be able to tell the difference between what's real and what isn't.
I think that's what they call a crazy person. Or insane. Or something along those lines.
Well, I guess it's a good thing I'm going to have a talk with my therapist. Maybe she can tell me if I'm going crazy.