As things came into focus, he could see he was in some sort of large residential room, tatty but bright. The velvet wallpaper was well past its sell-by date with corners peeling away and bubbles forming at the bottom, invaded by damp. The yellowish, stained skirting board was chipped and dented, probably by a Hoover, and the central dining table and chairs were a dulled and tattered pine. The saving grace was the big three-paned window at the front which let in gushes of light, even with the grey overcast conditions outside.
Ed started to feel his arms and legs, twisted his head from side to side to loosen his neck, and cautiously looked down to what the lottery of the transience had dished up for him.
Glossy deep black fur with white super-fluffy paws. He stretched them out and began a yawn with a stretch that rippled through his whole body. He looked down to see a set of four legs, each with outstretched retractable claws. They were impressive and aggressive, ready for scratching and piercing, and jet black in contrast to the brilliant white paws. He twitched his facial muscles in a way he had never done before and became aware of an intense sensitivity which seemed to give him what felt like a new sense.
It must be whiskers, he thought, as he stood up and arched his back upwards before slumping down into a comfortable ball once more.
This is a whole lot better than a tortoise, he mused, as he bathed in the comfort of the moment, feeling the odourless air pressure of a slight but barely noticeable draught across his face and whiskers.
“Oh for Chrissake, what is going on?” cried the boy, losing his cool at the frozen PC laptop.
“Control, alt, delete. Control, alt, delete. Then close down the offending program in the Windows task manager. Not rocket science, dude,” exclaimed Ed, omitting only a wide range of audible cat purrs and growls in the process.
“Shut up, moggie,” shouted Ali angrily before resuming his unscientific endeavours to get the computer functioning. Continued random tapping on the keyboard and jerky mouse movements did nothing to resolve the situation as his anger started to rise like steam in a pressure cooker.
“Oh, fuck it,” exclaimed the teenager as he bent down to pull the plug from the wall.
“Don’t swear,” shouted Frank, not disturbing his reclined position or closed eyes.
“Oh no, not at the wall. Don’t pull the plug out at the wall, use the reset button you moron,” yowled Ed, as the young man did exactly the opposite.
Ali span round, pissed off at the animal noises coming from the cat, and seething from the powerlessness evoked by the faulty computer.
“I’ve told you before, don’t get on the sofa. Are you thick or something?”
With that he leapt out of his computer chair and proceeded with haste over towards Ed, grabbing his fur coat behind his head and carrying him swinging like a six-pack into the kitchen. Once inside, he tossed him from waist-high onto the kitchen floor. Instinct kicked in immediately and Ed’s legs splayed out to cushion the blow, large feline paw pads acting to reduce any impact from the landing.
It was a sensational feeling: the large pad and four satellite pads under each paw landed on the floor as he cascaded down into a crouched position and then back upright, arching his back in an upwards curve. His whiskers were super-sensitive, almost like a second set of eyes feeling out the location of objects around him whilst his tail counterbalanced him with delicate and subtle movements. He felt like he was gimbal mounted.
“Do something useful and eat your food. It’s been there all day. What’s up with you?”
Ali slammed the door and retreated back to the living room, leaving Ed in the kitchen alone. Lo and behold, there in the corner was a bowl of cat food and a saucer of milk. He looked around the small room. There were white artificial looking cabinets, washing machine, oven and virtually everything one would expect in a low budget kitchen. The beige patterned lino on the floor was slightly padded but wearing thin and torn in places. The kitchen was in urgent need of an overhaul.
Next to the sink he could see piles of dirty washing-up and a solitary marigold glove hanging over the side with under-whelmed limpness. He ambled over towards the food, his legs instinctually following the walking pattern; back left, front left, back right, front right, back left, front left, back right, front right and so on, like an elegant four-legged centipede feeling proud of itself.
Mysteriously mathematical, but very satisfying, mused Ed, as he neared the food wondering how he would get on with it. It had not been a favourite for him as a human. It smelt good though as he moved his head over the small bowl. He started licking it, piece by piece before biting the bullet and getting his feline fangs involved in the extraction of the first whole lump. It was slightly oily, covered in flecks of semi-translucent jelly, but felt like proper cuts of meat. He tossed it up and down in a kind of juggling motion between his teeth before getting it into the optimum position for consumption. The flavour exploded as he took it fully into his mouth and sliced it apart with his sharp, white teeth.