The Green Cat

         The green cat looked in through the window at me. I looked back at it with a measure of confusion. The cat itself seemed normal. It had pointed ears and the stripes common to all tabby cats. It had long white whiskers and slit pupils. It had fur and a tail. 
          No one would argue that it was a cat. 
         But it was green. 
          Some cruel beautician or maybe some toxic waste accident might have dyed it that color. It seemed natural however, as natural as green grass and trees. 
          It watched me from outside the window, occasionally blinking. 
         I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I let it in? It didn’t seem to be rabid, or have any other disease that I knew of. It might have fleas or lice though, but I wouldn’t be able to tell until I let it in.  
         The cat itself did not seem in any rush to go anywhere. It sat by my window with all of the patience that a feline could muster.  
It was noble up there, looking down on me as a king might look down on some feeble peasant before him.  
          Looking up into those green eyes I felt something, an almost invasive searching through my soul. Like some great mind was being used against mine and I was helpless to resist.
The cat meowed outside the window, it was starting to rain, and I heard the distant reverberation of thunder on the plains.  
         When the cat meowed I saw its needle like teeth, teeth that it used to capture and kill other animals, teeth made for one purpose.  
          Then its mouth was closed, deadly teeth hidden behind whiskers and fur, cute and cuddly replaced sharp and deadly.  
          The cat didn’t seem happy, nor did it seem angry, it just seemed. It sat by my window as if it was meant to do this one thing and nothing else. As if it was the cat’s job to sit by my window.  
          It got distracted by some noise out on the street and looked away from me. As soon as its eyes turned I felt myself relax as if a great pressure had been removed from my mind.  
          The cat’s ears moved, switching from one direction to another, it seemed that one always remained pointing into my room.  
          As the distraction moved on up the street the cat turned its predatory head back towards me. It meowed again and shifted its front paws uneasily. Perhaps the patient predator was getting bored.
         It continued looking in at me though, up on the windowsill above my head.  
          The rain was coming down harder now, I could hear it smashing against the ground a constant pitter patter enlarged into a cacophony of stamping feet each one digging at the dirt and glass, pulling at the cat’s fur.  
          The cat meowed again, this time it was a longer, drawn out cry, asking me to please let it in, for the love of God let the poor beast in.
It was still a green cat on my windowsill however.
I had been told to not let stray animals in my house, let alone unusual green cats that sit on windowsills during thunderstorms.  
          The cat meowed again, this time not one long meow but several shorter ones, each one like the cry of a helpless beast.  
          Finally I could endure its cries no more and I sat up to open up my window allowing the poor green creature inside.  
          It looked at me with eager eyes as I quickly opened the window and then it clawed at the screen as I fumbled it out of the way, finally removing the last barricade between the green cat and my home.  
          The cat seemed to smile as it sauntered inside. Its fur definitely was green as grass, not dyed, not changed.  
          The cat jumped down onto my bed and curled up on my pillow, right where my head had been laying just moments ago. It lay there and slept and I left it in peace.  
          The little green cat, now seemed so small, so harmless, its fur matted with the rain and wind, so pathetic. I laid down on the bed to, gently petting it and its purrs lulled me into a long deep sleep.