A CAT HAS 9 LIVES

There’s an old English proverb that states: "A cat has nine lives. For three he plays, for three he strays, and for the last three he stays".

A common myth that we’ve all heard is that cats have nine lives. 

But where does this fiction of feline immortality actually come from? And why is it the number nine?

Nine is considered a magical number, which could also be part of the reason cats are attributed with nine lives. Cats have been both worshipped and feared throughout the ages and are seen as magical creatures.

The myth that cats have multiple lives exists across the world. 

No one exactly knows where the expression came from, but it has been around for centuries.

But do cats actually have nine lives?

No! Cats have one life just like any other living creature, most people would say. 

Cats. Interesting lovely creatures. 

They're probably the most independent pet out there. They can withstand falls and other serious accidents without being fatally wounded, which is perhaps where the saying ‘a cat has nine lives’ actually comes from.

But Why nine lives? 

Can cats cheat death?

Most people would disagree on that but trust me, I've experienced this Feline immorality. It's real. It happened to me. 

I woke up one morning and I was a cat with 9 lives. 

* 

*

At my funeral, my family waited in a line, leading to the casket so that people can say their condolences and then see the deceased before taking their seats. 

They then began their officiant speech about my life, the kind of person I was and all the nice bullshít they said about me that we all knew weren't true.

A few of them said some prayers for me. Other's just shook their head at my corpse and left.  

It's Crazy how people can pretend at ones funeral, isn't it?

At last, Barry, my closest friend was called forth to deliver a eulogy. He stood in front of everyone and told some stories  about me.  

I gotta say, he did try to keep it lighthearted and Funnyish, or super sweet. He did have a lot to say about me and so did many others. 

Even my wife, Fionna. 

Pathetic. Really pathetic. I'm glad I wasn't alive to listen to all those trash spilling from their mouths and yet, the memory was mysterious imbedded in me. 

Afterwards, these two people were the very ones who had me murdered. 

Finally, they closed my casket and the pall bearers carried my pale stiff body through the attendees to the hearse. Everyone followed behind the hearse in a funeral procession in their own cars to the burial place. 

It was a stormy afternoon with dark clouds blotting any ray of sunlight from touching the earth. 

It rained cat and dogs with claps of thunder and sounds of flashing hitting everywhere. 

Once at the cemetery, my immediate family all sat in front in chairs while every one else stood behind them in a semi circle. 

The pall bearers Carried my casket from the hearse to the final resting place and they say some more prayers and last words, or whatever they have planned to say to me. 

My family, friends or whoever, placed flowers on my casket to be buried with me. 

Immediately everyone left, the casket was lowered into the ground and covered with dirt. 

Dirt kept dropping on my casket until it was blotted out from this world forever. 

Up above the soil was my headstone. 

JERICHO CLAY 1956–2021 

A flash of lighting flashed across the sky followed by a resounding thunder clap. 

*

*

Beep-beep!

Beep-beep!

Beep-beep!

The bedside alarm went on for five seconds until I woke up and turned it off. Groaning, I slowly sat up and stretched my back, yawing tirelessly. 

I opened my eyes slightly to find myself in a small room. 

" Wha–where am I?" I said. 

I stiffened when I heard my voice. It wasn't weak and hoarse as it usually was. My voice sounded youthful and tough.

My hands sharply went to my throat and I felt it. A strong Adams apple. There were no wrinkles on my flesh either. 

" Strange," my lips moved. I glanced down at my hand to find my skin fresh and olive. 

Across the room was a wall mirror. I climbed out of my bed and hurried over to it. 

What I saw startled me and made me caught my breath sharply. 

I was young. 

Or rather I was in the body of a rather outstanding good looking man. The man who owns this room was taller, Stronger and very impressive. He's got a strong jawline and very brightful green eyes. His mass of ginger curly hair were shoulder length and silky. 

I started at my reflection, unable to believe this was real. 

" Oh, darling," came the sound of a woman. " I can't take it anymore."

" I'm just getting started!" A fully grown man grunted. " Open your legs wider, dear."

My eyes widened. " Huh? What's going on?"

I approached the door and opened it a fraction to find myself looking at a long corridor. Three rooms away from mine the door was where the noise was coming from. 

It was the noise a man and woman makes whenever they make love. I gently closed the door and returned back to my room. 

The time on my alarm read thirty-five minutes passed four o'clock. I drew back the curtains of my mirror and glanced outside to realize it was already morning with the sun nearly dawning to begin the new day. 

" Faster, darling," the woman from the other room moaned, raising her voice louder. " Give it to me faster."

I sat down on my bed and scratched the back of my head in confusion. But what exactly happened? The last thing I remember was being attacked by a bunch of people then I passed out into darkness and never woke up. 

What the heck, I'm supposed to be dead. So how am I still alive and in a strangers body. 

So many questions. It drove me nuts. 

Finally, I decided to take a deep breath and keep calm. Whenever I'm in a jam, silence and steady slow breathing goes a long way to make me calm.

More than anything else, I wished I had a cigarette. Thinking would probably make more sense to me once I have a cigarette inbetween my lips. 

But first, I gotta get outta here. 

I didn't bother brushing my teeth or getting into a shower. I felt weak and wobbly, but not as wobbly as I thought I was going to feel.

I went over to the closet and opened the door. I found an expensively tailored yellow-white flannel suit on a hanger, a pair of black leather foreign shoes, and a wide-brimmed hat on a shelf. 

I stared at the clothes, knowing they weren't mine. But that wasn't going to stop me. I hastily threw the clothes on. I also wore the black shoes I found on the shoe stacks and took the hat, fitting it properly on my head. 

Looking myself before the mirror, I couldn't help but be astonished. 

The man reflected before me was the most impressive male I've ever seen: slim, but powerfully-built, with his curly ginger swept-back hair, his long face, an eagle-like nose and dark penetrating hawk eyes. 

I caressed the gold Omega wrist watch on my wrist and felt the gold rings on my fingers. On my index finger was a big Ruby ring. 

I realized I was in the body of a rather wealthy powerful person. 

Grabbing a bulky wallet I found on the reading table, I found my way out of the room, walked down the corridor until I was in the old elevator cage. 

Dipping my hand in my suit instinctively, I produced a gold cigarette case with initials in diamonds. Surprised, I also produced a gold lighter, also decorated with diamonds. 

I lit a cigarette as the cage descended to the hotel lobby. Then nodding to the receptionist, I left my key and walked out into the narrow, busy street. 

As soon as I was out, I turned to look the building I was in. 

It was a motel. I must've spent the night here. I knew deep within myself I didn't. I just woke up in there. 

A few folks could be seen walking around the streets. Traffick was less but it won't be for long. Once the day's bright enough, everywhere would be jammed with cars and people. 

As I drew in smoke, I boarded an empty bus and sat down at the back. I had no idea where I was going and I didn't care. I just wanted to get as far away from where I woke up as possible. 

I kept smoking, taking my time to clear my head. With time, thinking became suddenly easier. 

Now that I think of it, I observed a lot of things are odd with this place. I hadn't the faintest idea where I was. The people I saw on the streets through my window were all wearing old fashioned clothes. 

Even the cars were old fashioned. They were Cars of my time when I was still a kid. 

I saw a lot of 1950 Crosley Station Wagon, 1951 Studebaker Starlight Coupe, Buick Roadmaster, Hudson Hornet and Cadillac Coupe deVille racing on the road. 

Tons of 'em. 

My hands went through the expensive suit I wore and out of my pockets, I found a journal. 

I went through the journal, searching for the date. What I found came as a shocker to me. 

4th April 1967. 

My eyes widening, I sharply pulled out my cigarette from my lips and rubbed my eyes to be sure I wasn't dreaming. 

1967? That's seven years after I must've been born. I had died the year 2021. 

No that's not the word. It's murdered. Yes, I was murdered. I remembered clearly now. 

I was murdered on the 6th of April 2021. 

And yet I'm still alive but in a totally different time. Back to the past. 

By the look of things, I think I can comprehend what was happening. 

It seemed I got reincarnated. I never believed such things exists. I've read about it, watched movies that showcased it, even heard stories about it. 

But I never imagined something like that could happen. Specifically to me. 

As I pondered on this, the bus stopped. 

" Last stop!" The driver yelled. 

Stepping out of the bus, I walked down the streets, eyes watchful. 

I felt light headed. It was unbelievable. I remained where I stood, looking like a virgin on her first night on prom. 

Glancing down at the journal in my hand, I studied it. It appears the man who's body I inhabited was someone of importance. The journal held many events and activities only a billionaire would write in his journal. 

Then I saw his name. 

Giovanni Israel.

Giovanni? Giovanni was an Italian name. Who was he? 

To get answers, I hurriedly searched his phone contacts names. I found strange nicknames written at the end page of his book. 

Bistro.

Ace. 

Benno.

El trigger. 

Knife.

Swallowing, I decided to try out Knife. I was puzzled why Giovanni decided someone's contact number to be saved as knife

There were a lot of cars drifting up and down the broad Street and a little crowd of people on the side walks. I walked through the crowd until I found a drug store. 

There was one thing I had to find out. I shut myself in a phonebooth and dialled 8888. 

I listened to the burr-burr-burr of the ringing tone, and my heart skipped a beat when a man with strong Italian accent answered. " Hallo?!"

" Is this knife?" I said, and my voice croaked. 

" What was that again?!" He asked with irritation. 

I ran a dry tongue over dryer lips. " I wish to speak with knife."

" You got the fella. Who're you?!"

" Giovanni Israel," I answered. 

The reaction was something out of a Hollywood studio. 

I heard knife drew in a long breath. " Boss, is that you?!"

I cleared my throat, surprised to be addressed as boss. " Uh, yeah."

" Where have you been boss?" He asked, and I sensed excitement in his voice. " We've been looking everywhere for ya."

" I can't tell," I answered, running my hands through my hair. I realized my heart wasn't banging out of my chest anymore. " I think I got lost."

" Where are you?" Knife inquired. " Tell me. I'll send the boys over."

I remembered the name of the drug store I was in and I told him. He got the description and told me to stay put. 

" We'll be right there boss," he said. " Hang on a bit longer."

And he went off the line. 

I returned the receiver back and pulled out a handkerchief from my pocket to mop my face. 

" Well, they're on their way," I said to myself. " I wonder what I'll be expecting."

I strolled outside the drug store, pulled out another cigarette and lit it. I didn't have to wait long. Their organization was pretty efficient. I was expecting two men, but I got something else. 

I saw ten cars shooting along the boulevard. They pulled up outside the drug store within ten feet of me. 

Different men in dark coats and slouch hats sprout out of the cars and came running after me. 

They crowded me on all corners as if protecting me from all corners. It made me felt like I had a hundred bodyguards on me. 

I looked around wildly, confused. 

Man, knife wasn't joking when he mentioned he was sending the boys. I was stunned. 

These men weren't boys. They were the toughest, meanest, dangerous men I've ever seen. 

A fat man came running down the road towards where I stood. He came with a black umbrella and placed it over my head. " Boss, are you alright?"

I stared at him, recognizing the Italian accent. " Knife?!"

Knife was fat but his eyes could scare any man. He looked like one of those dangerous men you find in the dark with a knife or gun hiding underneath his coat. 

His mean snake eyes told you never to underestimate his ability. Definitely the type of man you don't wanna mess with. 

He even threw a scare in me even though he was the one scared of me. He looked pale and afraid. 

" Yes boss," he said. " We've been all over the entire city searching for you. We... We thought you were dead."

I removed my cigarette off my lips with an unsteady hand. " Tell me what's going on."

" Don't you remember? We we're at Las Vegas when the Capellos attacked us," knife explained. " You took off in your Mercedes during the attack and vanished."

I stared bleakly at him. " The Capellos?"

Knife eyed me. " Yes boss."

I swallowed. 

There it was. My mind worked fast. I woke up in a strange handsome man's body. 

Now I'm surrounded by tough looking men and I'm their boss. 

We were attacked by a group of people called Capellos. 

It could only mean one thing. 

I was a Mafia boss. I got reincarnated in the body of a Mafia boss.

I stood still, staring at knife. I wanted to tell him he was lying that he got the wrong guy but the words wouldn't come. I felt blood leave my face. The cigarette slipped out of my fingers and dropped on to the floor.