Miss Kitty

“I think Miss Kitty is going to be an excellent employee,” said Miles, washing his face with his packrat hands.

Harold sat in the rocking chair in the corner of the room with his head, amazingly enough, perched on his shoulders, and Miles sat on the little wooden chair next to the vintage butter churn. The house, swept, dusted, mopped, and tidied, looked, well, clean.

“Are we pouting, Harold, hmm? A little jealous perhaps?”

“She didn’t see me, Miles. She's too young. And she brought you stinky cheese.”

Miles took a deep breath and counted to 7, his favorite number. Actually, it was also his seventh life. Pack rats had 7 lives, and if they were good and honorable, they’d get to come back again as a pack rat, or as their favorite animal. Miles loved being a pack rat, but he hoped that the next time around, he could be a horse. Horses were such majestic creatures, and they could run like the wind.

Of course, if a pack rat were bad and dishonorable, they would have to come back and spend a life as a human. Miles read Aristotle and Socrates, and understood the value of taking a fearless and personal moral inventory. He realized he had made a few mistakes, and therefore, he wanted to be especially good this time around, so that he wouldn’t have to spend a lifetime as a human. Why, as far as Miles was concerned, that would be worse than living in hell.

“Harold, my dear friend. Miss Kitty is 26. She's lovely, and obviously, a hard worker. Do you have something against purple hair and nose rings? These things take time. Obviously, Miss Kitty is a perceptive human being, and although she hasn’t seen you yet, I’m certain that she will come around. She noticed the rocking chair, and bought that lovely cushion for you to sit on.”

“Do you really think so,” said Harold the ghost.

“Of course,” said Miles. “The house looks lovely. I’m going to have a cup of tea. Would you like to read me your latest poem?”