Hating Ethan Hale
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Summary
After I died, I became my enemy’s cat.
He spoiled me rotten, even bought me a set of those recordable word buttons for pets.
A press of the paw, and a mechanical voice would announce:
Hungry.
Litter box.
Treat.
He tried to teach me with endless patience, but I loved to piss him off, so I’d just slam my paw on a random jumble of them every time.
But on the anniversary of my death, he drank himself into a stupor, all alone in his room.
He cried, clutching a photo of me like a madman, sobbing about how much he regretted everything, how much he missed me.
He even said he loved me.
