It was entirely black and astonishingly intelligent. It's intelligence, in fact, would make my wife speak of the ancient notion that all black cats were witches in disguise. Of course, she never seriously believed this, and I mention it only because I just now happened to remember it.
Pluto - that was the cat's name - was my favourite pet and playmate. I alone fed him, and he followed my wherever I went in the house. It was even difficult to prevent him from following me through the streets.
Our friendship continued like this for several years, during which my personality underwent a huge change for the worse. I blush to confess it now, but what disease is like alcohol? I grew, day by day, more moody, irritable, and uncaring about the feelings of others. I directed horrible language towards my wife, and eventually I even became physically violent towards her. My pets, of course, also felt this change in my character. I both neglected and ill-used them. For Pluto however, I still had enough sense to refrain from abusing him, though I abused the rabbits, the monkey, and even the dog - without giving it a second thought - whenever they came in my way. But my disease grew worse upon me, and eventually, even Pluto, who was by now quite old and weak, began to experience the effects of my ill-temper.
One night, as I was returning home from getting drunk in the town, I came to the realization that the cat was avoiding me. I grabbed him, when, in his fright at my violence, he bit me, and inflicted a wound on my arm. The fury of a demon instantly possessed me! I no longer knew my self. My original soul seemed, all at once, to have left my body, and a more evil, ill-nurtured one filled every fibre of my being. I took a knife out of my coat pocket, grasped the poor animal by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyes from the socket! I blush, I burn, I tremble as I write down this horrible act.
