How I Was Slapped into Next Week

I’m writing from the future. That’s right. I didn’t think time travel was a possibility either — at least, not yet — but here we are. Me, future. You, past or present? I’m very confused and frightened about all of this and have a killer headache to boot. As far as I can tell, I’m writing this from what would be next Thursday for you.

Here is what I remember: I was sitting on the floor of Shasta’s kitchen, simply talking to her. I recall lavishing her with praises, with a focus on her beauty. Now that I think about it, I may have been going overboard with my compliments of her appearance; but as you can see, she is quite a stunning creature:

Shasta poses like this naturally.

I was admiring her eyes and felt compelled to say, “Oh my! Shasta, you’re eyes are gorgeous! They look like perfect green marbles sitting in your face!”

At that moment, Shasta turned her attention from the deck — where her most favorite thoughts of squealing squirrels, screaming bunnies and bloody fledgling corpses danced in her head — to me.

Shasta is a beauty queen…Also a plotter of countless bird murders.

She slowly rolled her gaze up and met my eyes.

This photo was taken mere moments before Shasta sent me sailing through unknown dimensions.

I can’t explain why I did this, but I took her chill-one-to-the-bone-and-fear-real-evil stare as an invitation to reach my hand up and pet her. And you know, now that I look back at the whole situation, I’m able to plainly see that was the moment I went wrong. I can freely admit that at this point — this point in the future or whatever this is. (I’m scared!)

Anyway, as my fingertips made contact with her fuzzy head, I felt the ground beneath me quake. The details are still hazy, but I seem to recall a fury of paws batting at my hand and a huff of disgust. In a nanosecond, the day became night; then a rainbow of color exploded before the whole world turned red, then black. When I came-to, Shasta was standing over my battered body, staring through me.

Here’s Shasta’s “chill-one-to-the-bone-and-fear-real-evil” stare.

I know now that Shasta slapped me through time and space as a consequence for petting her pretty head. And I’m fairly certain that she lulled me into a false sense of security for the sole purpose of slapping me through those unknown dimensions — it’s her thing. Now I’m sure this sounds dumb, but I think I’d willingly fall into her trap again tomorrow; or next week, however you want to define it. Trust me, it was worth it.