The Cat in the Box

“It came!” the human female cried. Her high-pitched voice disturbed the cat only slightly as she napped on the dining table.

“What did?” the human male asked. He didn’t bother to get out of his computer chair.

“Subway’s new toy!” The woman brought a brown paper box into the house and set it on the dining table with a thud. The cat’s ears pinned back, but she didn’t move. The sun had warmed up the spot on the table, and she wasn’t about to abandon it.

“Tell me again. Why did we name the cat Subway?” the man asked. His computer let out a scream as he killed another virtual human on his game.

“Because she’s so picky about her food that she has to eat fresh,” the human female said. "You know. Like their logo."

“Oh, right. That’s why we pay out the ass for canned food,” the man said.

The cat curled up more tightly as the humans bickered yet again. Her tail flipped in agitation. Would they ever shut up and let her sleep?

Eventually, the human female returned to the dining room and cut into the box with a knife. The sound of the paper crinkling jolted the cat awake. She rose into a hunkered position, ready to attack the rustling target.

“Aww, look at Subway’s wiggle butt. She wants to attack the paper," the woman said. “Look what I ordered you! It’s way better than some trash.”

She set a garishly-colored structure of plastic arches, posts, and tubes on the floor. Little plush mice and fish dangled from every surface. The woman beamed at the cat, looking like she expected praise.

But the cat had already hopped into the brown paper box. The woman let out a sign and smiled.

“That’s a cat for you,” she said. “I guess I’ll let you keep the box for a while.”

Inside the box, the cat sat. It felt good to be hidden on all sides. She wasn’t certain if she should just sit and enjoy herself, or curl up for a nap.

“Hey.”

That cat blinked. She hadn’t heard the voice of the screeching woman or the round man. The voice had come...from within. Her ears pinned back to the sides of her head. She didn’t like a voice bothering her from inside her own ears.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The cat let out a deep growl from the back of her throat. No one ever said that and meant it.

“I’m already inside you, so there’s nothing you can do about it. There’s no sense worrying about it,” the voice said.

The cat stopped growling, but her tail never stopped thrashing.

“Calm down. I’ve been living inside you for years. Remember that mouse you caught in the basement?”

“I’ve caught plenty of mice in the basement,” the cat said.

“You would remember this one. He walked right up to you, like he wasn’t even scared of cats,” the voice said.

“What is your point?” The cat licked her front paw and rubbed her ear with it.

“Yeah, that was me. I was making him do that. You sank your teeth into his plump little body, but you didn’t even bother to kill him. Doesn’t matter though. I don’t care if you kill the host or not, as long as I can make the transfer,” the voice said.

“What are you?” the cat thought. She wasn’t sure if the voice would hear her question, but she never had a disembodied voice talking to her before. Life experience wasn’t going to help her now.

“Me? I’m just your friendly local parasite,” the voice said. “The name is toxoplasma gondii, but you can just call me Toxo.”

“What do you want?” the cat asked.

“Well, I just want to thank you. You see, cats like you help us stay mobile. By hanging around inside your adorably soft tummy, I get to spread my eggs whenever you poop,” Toxo said. “And my kids have a chance of getting inside anyone who handles your doo-doo. Now, I don’t know what sort of weirdos want to play around with cat mess, but I’m not judging. The truth of the matter is, that human female of yours already has me inside of her. She’s the one who cleans the litter box, right?”

“Yes. So what? It doesn’t affect me,” the cat said.

“But it does! Most of the time, we don’t try to communicate with the host. And by host, I mean you guys. Cats. You’re our favorite creature to live inside of. And since we’ve got some privacy here, I figured it would be a good time to say hi,” Toxo said. “Say hi and tell you about the perfect world we’re going to make.”

The cat lay down and yawned.

“About a third of all humanity has toxoplasma gondii. A third! Isn’t that amazing?” Toxo said. “And we’re spreading! Soon, every human will have us inside them. And they’re real receptive to what we want. Just like with the mice, we can make them do what we want. And we can make them real nice to you. All you have to do is go poop in the neighbor’s yard. Get super friendly with the houseguest that just came over. Find ways to get in people’s business. Get weird with it,” Toxo said. “All the cats are being told the good news.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” the cat said, curling up inside the box.

“Right, but think about the end result! No more closed doors! No more shut windows! No more going to the vet’s office! No more eating dry kibble, because all the humans know you deserve canned,” Toxo said.

“My people already know I deserve canned,” the cat said. “So nothing you say is going to make me do all that stuff.”

Toxo sighed. “It’s only a matter of time, you know. Regardless of what you do, we’ll be everywhere.”

“And we already are. Have you even seen the internet?” And with that, the cat sprang out of the brown paper box and nudged it off the table.