Tachyon Cat

The cat is domestic only as far as suits its own ends… – Saki (H. H. Munro)

Cats have been referred to as moons, planets and gods since they first deigned to allow humans to see them. I, however, ascribe to the theory of a tachyon cat.

Like the tachyon particle, the tachyon cat is hypothetical. It must exist, because no law or principle prevents its existence.

Tachyon cats display bizarre and contrary behavior. They are there and not there. Look for them and you don’t see them. Call them and there is no response. Yet, suddenly, they’re upon you, gazing and waiting, “Yes?” written on their whiskered expression. “There you are,” you exclaim, rewarding the tachyon cat. “Where were you?”

But they were right there, seen and unseen. Tachyon cats gain energy as they acquire mass, and gain speed as they gain mass and energy. They never travel slower than the speed of light, even at rest, and gain more mass when you try to move them. Their eyes reflect the gaze of distant black holes, which they alone have seen and visited.

When tachyon cats are detected in your presence, it seems like they’re coming and going. Although they can traverse walls without flinching, they like to assert their mastery over humans, so you see them always at the door, asking to be let out, in, out, in, out, in, out, until you’re reduced to puzzling, “Again? But didn’t I just let you out?”

Tachyon cats eat nothing and eat everything. They eat more and less than other cats, and sleep more and less than their feline peers. They play more and less than other cats, and they’re more loving, aloof and cuddly than other cats, while being the same as other cats. They’re a different species than other felines, but they’re the same species.

They’re as dark and mysterious as the dark side of the moon, and as bright and sunny as our star. Some say tachyon cats do not exist, but I know that’s not true. One lives with me, when it suits his desires.

Otherwise, I live with him.