Cat runs wildly through the flat for no apparent reason. From south to north, west to east, completely out of control. As if a switch has been flicked, he moves like a machine at its fastest setting. As long as you enter the right information, Cat turns into a highly intelligent and unstoppable four-legged automaton, his route preprogrammed. He sprints through the house at breakneck speed without a hitch. Just when it looks as if he’s about to crash into a wall, he easily swerves aside, his hind legs nimbly tapping the baseboard to send his body flying at a different angle, carving a graceful arc through the air, which is how he turns a corner and continues dashing in a different direction.

He runs and runs as if something is chasing him, leaving countless paw prints on the wall and even in the air as well. He goes up into the sky and comes back down to earth, always remaining alert, occasionally slowing down or even stopping altogether, head, ears, and eyeballs atwitch, studying his surroundings like a wuxia fighter from TV in the middle of a duel (two warriors, one standing in the dark, one in the light). His whiskers tremble as he seeks out his opponent. His front paws shoot out, his rear legs spring, and he’s off again at speed.

His enemy seems able to fly too. Although it can’t be seen, and I have no idea what it looks like, I can tell from Cat’s expression that this is no ordinary foe. This enemy is able to move freely between reality and Cat’s consciousness. Now into Cat’s brain, now back into the room, driving Cat into a frenzy as he both tries to hunt down this creature and avoid becoming prey himself.

Cat and this uninvited guest are locked in an endless pantomime of chase. Every part of the flat is a battleground for them. The first time I saw Cat running like crazy, I was shocked and thought he might have something wrong with his brain—no matter how much I yelled at him, he ignored me. All I could do was be his audience, sitting on the couch and watching this senseless drama play out, waiting in suspense for the end.

Recounting this show later on, Husband and I both feel that Cat must have a foe hidden somewhere we couldn’t see, or maybe not hidden at all but swirling all around us, invisible to humans but able to drive Cat into a tizzy.

Sometimes the smallest breeze will arrive, so faint it can barely be felt, only just ruffling my arm hairs but enough to send Cat into another round of battle with his great enemy. He’ll lunge and crouch defensively, moving in such broad strokes that surely this would scare away any foe. When the wind finally stops, Cat quiets down. More often, there won’t even be the slightest disturbance in the air and Cat will, nonetheless, with great resolve, enter the fray with his invisible foe.