Why Does My Cat Like Bleach Novels & Stories

I want to scream, but it hurts. I cautiously approached her once again, my feline form moving with a mix of trepidation and hope. Despite the fear of being kicked again, I couldn't resist the pull to be near her. As I drew closer, I noticed a change in her demeanor. She seemed surprised, perhaps even intrigued, by my persistence. "Look, Lea! The cat likes you!" one of her friends exclaimed, drawing her attention to my presence. Their words echoed in my ears, filling me with a glimmer of hope.

"He's around here someplace. There should be some Friskies over there someplace." I found the cat food next to a small refrigerator and a can opener as well. The cat, a gray Siamese with yellow eyes, came running at the sound. He seemed friendly enough anyway, rubbing himself around my legs in a figure eight and purring softly. I'd never owned a cat. "He likes you," Shelly said from the balcony-bedroom, and I looked up to see her standing naked and smiling down at me.

Blood smears across the carpet, dark streaks that'll never come out. Good thing this place sees worse things than murder. The bathtub is barely big enough, but I manage to fold him inside. His head lolls at an unnatural angle. I turn away, focusing on the next step. Bleach. Lots of it. The motel's supply closet is a joke—just cleaning rags and half-empty bottles. But there's enough bleach to burn away DNA. I pour it over everything: the carpet, the walls, the doorknobs. The chemical smell makes my eyes water.

I walked slowly toward the living room, the floor creaking under my feet, my breath catching in my throat as I glanced around. It was too clean. Like hotel-clean. Like someone had bleached the soul out of it. There was a faint chemical tang still hanging in the air—harsh, acidic, unmistakable. Bleach. My heart dropped. The couch cushions were fluffed. The coffee table gleamed unnaturally. Even the faded rug looked scrubbed. I turned in a slow circle. It was too clean. Too perfect.

he said quietly. "...You've already seen?" I whispered. Tang placed his arm around my shoulders, gently steering me away as he murmured, "It's just a dead cat. Been there a while. With this heat, the smell's bound to be awful." I gave him a skeptical look that clearly asked: Really? A cat? Are you lying to me? Tang's lips curved into a small smile. "Cecilia, you almost look disappointed it's not something worse." I glared at him. Disappointed? Seriously?

Frost had eaten to his heart's content and, putting down his bowl and chopsticks, said to Bianca, "It's obvious that you're allergic to the cat. This little fellow probably can't stay here." Bianca retorted, "I have Lily to help take care of the cat with me, and regular cleaning will do. I don't care if I'm allergic. Besides, it chose me to be its litter box cleaner." But Frost insisted, "I have a part in saving it too; how do you know it didn't choose me?"

The bitter, slightly acidic taste of strawberry shampoo did not sit well on my tongue so I had to use the arm of my blue sweater to brush it off. My cat, Leslie, cocked her head at me while I frantically cleaned my tongue. Her blue feline eyes seemed to be filled with laughter as her pink ears swiveled. She hissed just as a pair of black and white Converses stopped right beside me. I was so preoccupied with removing the distaste from my mouth that I didn’t hear the footsteps. I traced the shoes up to meet the confused face of my friend, Indy. “Why on earth are you sitting on the floor in your backyard?” her smooth, accented voice asked.

Coral giggled in my arms. "Lady Gloria, may we come in?" She looked up at Eli startled. "Oh right! Of course, my apologies!" She stepped back and welcomed us into her home. The scent got stronger, it burned my nose now. The cats crowed Coral and I, meowing loudly and trying to jump up at her tail. Once we rounded into the living room, cats lounged on every piece of furniture. But, with a little shooing, we all managed to grab a seat. Eli sat beside me, his body oddly tensed. A tuxedo cat jumped onto Zane's lap and he recoiled from it, shoving himself further into the leather chair. The cat jumped away in surprise. The cats rubbed against Coral's tail. An orangeish cat even jumped onto her la

"There you are wrong. She is a tamer of beasts and I haven't seen one in hundreds of years. Your cat should react and feel soothed when she is near. Centuries ago, beastkind destroyed any they discovered. It's rumored they can bring a feral beast back from the brink of insanity." It had to be the alcohol. My mind was sorting through his words but making no sense of them. I remembered meeting Cecily and my cat instantly attaching itself to her. I loved the simple sound of her voice even when she complained. She made me laugh. The Moor was right - Cecily soothed my beast. Holy shit.

Liam suggested. “Hey, what happened to your face? It looks like you got hurt,” Liam added. Keanu touched the scratch on his cheek from his mother’s slap. “Oh, this... I have a mischievous cat at home,” he lied. Liam laughed. “So, you’re an animal lover, huh? It would help to get your cat checked regularly to ensure it’s healthy. Sometimes... a cat attacks not because it dislikes its owner, but because it’s feeling stressed....”