My Guardians are Three Disabled Cats
My best friend spent a fortune on three Tibetan Mastiffs. My landlord cleared out his fish tank for a trio of alligators. My boyfriend stormed the city zoo and came back with a lion.
And me? I had three stray cats. The oldest was blind, the middle one had a limp, and the youngest was barely a month old.
The moment the System locked in our pet registrations, I knew.
I was screwed.
My whole plan was to hide with my three disabled cats and just survive. Quietly.
Day one of the apocalypse: Terror.
Day two: Helplessness.
Day three: My sons padded up to me, their big tails swishing, and dropped something unidentifiable at my feet.
Mom, the oldest one said, his voice a low rumble in my head. I bit the heads off every zombie on the block.
He nudged the grisly trophy with his nose.
So. Hows this for playing it safe?
1
Apocalypse countdown: 24 hours. Your pets will become your guardians. Each individual is limited to three.
The moment the Systems announcement echoed in everyones mind, the world imploded.
Pampered toy poodles and fluffy house cats were dumped on the streets. Vicious, aggressive dogs that people used to cross the street to avoid were suddenly the subject of frantic bidding wars.
My boyfriend, Mark, heard the news and raced to my apartment.
Without a word, he scooped up my three sleeping cats, bundled them into their carrier, and headed for the window, intending to toss them out like a bag of trash.
I moved faster than I ever had in my life, planting myself in front of him. Mark, what the hell are you doing? I raised them!
He exploded. Did you not hear the announcement? The world ends in twenty-four hours, Anna! You really think a blind cat and a cripple are going to protect you?
I stood my ground, a human shield in front of the window. Seeing that force wasn't working, Mark softened his voice, turning on that infuriatingly fake charm.
Anna, baby, just listen to me. Be reasonable. We get rid of these liabilities, and well have six slots between us. We can get some serious protection. Well be untouchable.
I wasnt moving. I puffed out my chest, a bluff I didnt feel. Who says they cant protect me? Leo isnt crippled, and Luna isnt blind. Theyre good cats. It was a stupid, pointless lie. Leos left hind leg had always been stiff, and Lunas eyes were milky, sightless orbs. You touch them today, and we are over. I mean it.
Mark stared at me like Id just been committed to an asylum.
He slammed the carrier onto the floor, and the raw anger finally broke through. Theyre not blind, Anna? No, Im the one whos been blind! What was I thinking, dating a stupid, bleeding-heart case like you?
He stormed toward the door. Were done. And when the world goes to hell tomorrow, dont you dare come crawling to me.
The door slammed shut, the sound rattling the cheap pictures on my walls. Only after he was gone did I rush to the carrier, letting my cats out, my hands shaking as I stroked their fur.
It wasn't the first time I'd heard that kind of vitriol. Ever since I graduated college, the label "bleeding heart" had stuck to me like glue.
And it was all because I was, to the bone, a cat person.
After college, I got my own place, a tiny one-bedroom I could barely afford. To finally fulfill a childhood dream, I took in two strays I found shivering in a dumpster during a thunderstorm. A male and a female. I named the big one Leo and the smaller one Luna, and I loved them like they were my own kids.
To most people, having a couple of rescue cats isn't strange. The strange part was their appetite.
They wouldn't touch the cheap kibble from Walmart. They turned their noses up at the hundred-dollar-a-bag, grain-free stuff from PetCo. They ignored cans of tuna and fancy catnip treats.
They only ate fresh meat. Raw. Three-pound chickens? They could tear through four or five a day. When they got tired of chicken, it was pork. Then steak.
If I didnt buy it for them, theyd slip out the window and steal it from the butcher shop down the street.
From that day on, my life became a frantic cycle of cleaning up their messes. I was drowning in credit card debt, my already pathetic paycheck vanishing into their food budget. I was the quintessential millennial clich: working overtime at a soul-crushing job, subsisting on ramen and caffeine, and trying to ignore the constant, gnawing hunger. I fainted at my desk more than once from malnutrition.
The older women in my apartment building would see my gaunt face and pull me aside, their voices thick with pity.
Honey, if those cats can find their own food, maybe you should just let them go.
Youre so young, Anna. You cant ruin your health like this. Youll end up with permanent problems.
Lying in bed one night, my stomach aching with hunger, I decided they were right.
So, under the cover of a moonless night, I drove them to a park across town and set them free.
2
Honestly, the day I abandoned Leo and Luna was the first day in years I ate until I was full.
Barbecue ribs, buffalo wings, a whole pint of Ben & Jerrys. I ordered everything Id been craving for months and ate until I had to lean against the wall to stand up. I fell asleep in a food coma, dreaming of flavors I had almost forgotten.
But the good life didnt last long. The next morning, a frantic, scratching sound at my door jolted me awake.
I opened it, and there they were. Leo and Luna.
Leo had a fat trout dangling from his mouth, and Luna had a dead pigeon pinned under her paw. They sat there, looking up at me with those pleading, pathetic expressions theyd perfected. As soon as the door was open, they pushed the food toward me, an offering.
The wall Id built around my heart overnight crumbled into dust. But then the memory of the constant hunger, the dizziness, the shame of my empty bank account returned. I swallowed hard.
No, I whispered, my voice thick. I cant afford you. You cant come back.
I shut the door in their faces, the click of the lock sounding like a gunshot.
On my side of the door, I was a mess, creeping to the peephole to watch them, tears streaming down my face.
The first day, they staged a hunger strike right on my doormat.
The second day, the hunger strike continued.
The third day, still nothing.
I watched through the peephole as the cats Id worked so hard to nurse back to health grew thinner and thinner. On the outside, I was a monster of cold resolve. On the inside, I was dying with them.
After a week, Leo couldnt take it anymore. He collapsed, retching up bile right in front of my door.
That was it. My resolve shattered. I threw the door open.
Get in here, I choked out.
I was resigned to my fate. I was born to be their servant.
To keep us all from starving, I descended further into the gig economy. I worked my 9-to-5, then spent my nights and weekends driving for Uber and delivering for DoorDash. My days stretched into sixteen-hour marathons of pure exhaustion.
The news spread through my old college friends. Annas lost it. Shes got some weird disease where shell die without her cats.
I didnt care. All that mattered was keeping my little family together.
Over time, I even got used to the grueling pace. I was almost proud of my resilience.
And just when I thought I had it all figured out, Luna got pregnant. She gave birth to a single, tiny ball of fur, so white it was blinding.
A true demon, born into this world.
3
Id never seen a cat so white. If you put him in a snowdrift, the snow would look dirty by comparison.
I named him Ghost.
Ghost opened his eyes on day one. He was walking by day two. By day three, hed figured out how to open the apartment door, sneak downstairs, and chew through the insulated delivery box to drink all the fresh milk meant for the entire building.
Leo and Luna were content with raw meat. But Ghost? Ghost would only eat things that were alive.
He single-handedly drove the neighborhoods escaped-hamster population to extinction. Hed leap into the nearby creek and steal hooked fish right off the line, leaving furious fishermen with nothing. He even got into the neighbors backyard and snatched their prize-winning pet rabbit.
My role in our little family leveled up again. I went from Chief Financial Officer to Chief of Damage Control. On top of working myself to the bone, I spent my free time making humiliating, bowing apologies to my neighbors.
At twenty-three, fresh out of college, I was Anna, full of ambition, convinced I was going to make something of myself.
Two years later, I was Anna, the woman at the bottom of the food chain, so beaten down I felt like I should apologize to the rats in the sewer for taking up space.
Looking back, it was a hard road. But the four of us, we had each other. Wed made it through the worst of it.
And now, the apocalypse was coming.
Zombies. Fast, strong, and numerous. One bite and you were either dead or one of them.
It didnt matter if my cats had been eating chickens and rabbits their whole lives. Even if Id been feeding them timberwolves, they couldnt stop a horde of zombies.
I watched the clock on the wall. Less than twenty-three hours to go.
There was no way I was getting rid of my cats. But with the little money I had, I couldnt afford a trained guard dog, let alone tame a wild animal.
What was I supposed to do? Just wait to die?
After weighing my options, I clenched my jaw. Fine.
Id just have to prepare. I didnt have to fight the zombies head-on. If I had enough food and water, I could just hide. Barricade myself in this apartment and wait it out.
Survive for as long as I could. Every extra day was a win.
With a new sense of purpose, I joined the frantic mobs looting the city. While everyone else was fighting over attack dogs and exotic animals, I slipped into the back of a grocery store. I made trip after trip with my beat-up 2008 Honda Civic, hauling hundreds of pounds of rice, flour, and canned goods. I cleared shelves of ramen, mac and cheese, and Spam. I filled half my living room with bottled water alone.
Through all this chaos, my three cats didnt stir. They just slept. Lately, it seemed like sleeping was all they ever did.
My tiny apartment was now a fortress of non-perishables. I was drenched in sweat, my body screaming with exhaustion. But I wasnt done. I went to a hardware store and bought steel plates and bolts, reinforcing my door and windows. It wouldnt stop a horde, but it might buy me some time.
Finally finished, I collapsed on the floor, ready to pass out.
Suddenly, I heard a key turning in my lock.
My landlord burst in, flanked by a group of menacing-looking men.
Leave the supplies. Get out, he said, not even looking at me. Im terminating your lease.
4
On what grounds? My heart hammered against my ribs, but fury quickly replaced the fear.
The landlord was arrogant, a classic slumlord who had never once fixed my leaky faucet. He casually hefted a crowbar in his hand. On the grounds that this is my property, and I can do whatever the hell I want.
His men pinned me to the floor. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but watch as they carried away all the food I had risked my life to gather. I watched as they brought in a massive, custom-built aquarium and set it up in the middle of my living room.
Somehow, my landlord had gotten his hands on several small alligators. Their jaws were wired shut for now, but I could see the glint of their teeth.
He looked at his new pets with a smug, proud grin, then noticed Ghost sleeping on the floor. He snatched him up by the tail.
He swung my tiny, sleeping kitten back and forth, laughing. Hahaha! Dont tell me you were planning on this little furball protecting you! Theres not enough meat on its bones to get stuck in my gators teeth.
Ghost, who was usually a terror, was completely limp, as if he were in a coma. Leo and Luna, who were fiercely protective, didnt even twitch. They were all dead to the world.
The landlord laughed again and made a move to drop Ghost into the tank.
NO! I screamed. Ill go! Ill take them and go right now. Just dont hurt him.
He tossed Ghost into my arms. Good girl. Now get the hell out of here. If I see you again, Ill feed you to them, too.
One hour until the apocalypse, and I was on the street with my three comatose cats.
This was it. I was well and truly finished.
I held one cat in my arms and had the other two in a backpack carrier, wandering aimlessly, looking for a place to hide.
I rounded a corner and bumped right into two people. I looked up and my blood ran cold. It was my best friend, Jessica, and Mark. They were holding hands, walking three enormous, snarling Tibetan Mastiffs.
Well, well, look what we have here, Jess cooed, her voice dripping with venom. Its Anna. Still clinging to your precious little masters, I see.
I ignored her, my eyes locked on their intertwined hands. We broke up a few hours ago, Mark. How are you with her?
He dropped the charade, his face twisting into a sneer. You really think I was ever into you, Anna? Youre a broke, scrawny charity case. Jess and I have been together for months.
I was going to trick you into raising some strong pets with me, he continued, his voice cruel. Then, when the time was right, Id have pushed you out as zombie bait. That way, Jess and I could have had nine guardians between us. But youre just too stupid for your own good. Couldnt let go of these useless fleabags.
Jess giggled, squeezing Marks arm. Honey, why are you wasting your breath? Weve got mastiffs and a lion now. Shes dead meat no matter what. Why dont we just let our babies have a little appetizer?
The meaning behind her words hit me. My whole body started to shake. Theyre going to kill me. Before the zombies even get here, Im going to be eaten by dogs. I could see their teeth. Long, yellow canines. It would hurt so much.
As if they understood, the mastiffs surged forward, barking furiously.
Jess clapped her hands. Thats it, boys! Go on! Rip that bitch apart!
The dogs lunged. The smell of their hot, fetid breath washed over me. My feet felt like they were nailed to the pavement. I couldnt run. I couldnt even scream. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the teeth.
And in that instant, my cats woke up.
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