Chapter 6: The Grandson Returns

The next time I saw Grandma’s oldest grandson was half a year later.

When summer vacation finally arrived, the excited grandson stood stunned in the yard.

He looked at me, confused, and asked Grandma, “Grandma, where’s my Whiskers?”

Grandma and I stared at each other. She pointed at me. “Isn’t she right here?”

The grandson looked at me. I looked at him.

I wanted to rub against his leg, but as soon as I took two steps, he plopped down and wailed, “That’s not Whiskers!”

“My Whiskers was tiny, with big round eyes, she…”

He pointed at me, devastated. “She could eat me in one bite! This is a prehistoric giant cat, a mammoth cat! This isn’t my Whiskers…”

He shrank away in the shadow cast by my huge body, looking weak, pitiful, and helpless.

Grandma cocked her ear. “What red pepper?”

“I gave her a new name. She’s called Pearl now. Yes, she’s a bit skinny—this kitten’s picky and hardly eats.”

I flexed my paw and even the maple tree shook.

Yes, yes, I’m picky. I have an eating disorder.

Who’d love eating if they were force-fed every day?

I took another step toward the grandson, and he scrambled away on all fours as if his butt was greased. His sneakers skidded on the grass, and he yelped, “No way! Not my Whiskers!”

The grandson didn’t love me anymore.

I was very sad and had no appetite.

That night, Grandma cooked a big meal, but her son left without eating.

The table was set with fried shrimp, mashed potatoes, and a big bowl of green beans. The grandson climbed onto a stool, reaching for the fried shrimp, but Grandma rapped his hand with her chopsticks.

“Your Cat Uncle hasn’t sat down yet!”

Grandma even put my bowl right on the table.

My food was the portion she picked out for me—hers had seasoning, mine was plain.

Whatever Grandma ate, I ate too.

That was my cat meal.

The grandson stared wide-eyed as I, the prehistoric giant cat, leapt lightly onto the table, listened to Grandma’s instructions, then tucked in to eat.

Grandma asked him questions as she ate.

“Is school hard?”

“Are you sleeping well?”

“Do you eat well at home?”

He stammered, unable to answer, just staring at me in terror.

Grandma even picked up food I dropped and put it back in my bowl.

That night, the grandson didn’t sleep a wink.

He couldn’t figure out where things had gone wrong, and was just glad he hadn’t brought his hamster for Grandma to take care of.

Otherwise, standing in the yard today wouldn’t just be a prehistoric giant cat, but also the Yellow Wind Monster.