King Henry VIII is My Cat (Apparently)

I could feel my bones ache from another work day. My feet begging for a massage; but with that sort of smell, not even I would want to go touch them. I yearned for a holiday, possibly someplace in the British countryside; and without a single human being in sight. Anywhere that gives me a peace of mind, and one that didn't force me to be stuck in a cubicle with endless emails.

My workplace doesn't believe in ergonomics, or mental health for that matter. Day in and day out, I found myself crawling to the end of the line, making a place for myself in a maze of busy ants, where I'm maggot. My name is Olivia Park, and I am thirty-four year old divorcée with an awul credit history and profound IBS.

I'm an Operations Manager for a massive tech company that acts continously like a startup, despite being around for over 15 years. My job is to make sure our customers get trained on how to use our software, so they can file their own taxes properly.

My boss likes to breathe down my neck, because having control in the workplace is what she was born to do. I can see she strives for perfection, only to fill the massive hole in her heart. Or whatever's left of it anyway. Gaslighting is her favourite sport, as is making people she deems as inadequate, "reduntant" like a drop of a hat. In fact, I think about how she's totally not someone like Catherine O'Hara. Just the other day, Seth Rogan was giving a speech about Catherine O'Hara's posthumous win for the Actors Awards this year. The thing that strike me the most was that Catherine was both genius and kind, without the expense of one another. My boss was not that.

However, my job pays the bills enough to keep me well fed, my plants and cat, Jeoffrey, alive.

"Hey," I heard from across the room. "Are you still feeling miserable about your boss?"

"No I'm-" wait, what the hell. I live alone.

I jolted up from my seat and saw my cat approaching me. Tail swaying back and forth, with a huge grin on his face like he was all of a sudden the Cheshire Cat. Was I losing my mind so much that my cat, Jeoffrey the Lord of Whiskers, was talking to me?

I laughed nervously, "I could have sworn you just spoke to me. That didn't happen."

"I did speak to you, commoner." Jeoffrey is not only a tabby cat that resembles a miniature Maine Coone, but it seems he is also British.

"Excuse me-"

"And the name is King Henry VIII." He approached me, so gracefully and unfamiliar that I felt small in comparison.

"I'm sorry this must be a dream, I am obviously dreaming."

"Human, I say this with my utmost respect for your well being and consideration, as you have taken me in when I was just a wee lad."

This is true, I did find Jeoff- I mean King Henry VIII at a shelter a few years prior, after divorcing my husband. We had married young, and I realized I did not want to have children with him. Possibly because he had a secret girlfriend during our marriage at the same time. Such is life.

"GET. YOUR. SHIT. TOGETHER!" he continued, "I am oh so tired of seeing your sorry ass come home every night, glued to the couch... doomscrolling on LinkedIn for jobs you never apply to. Or, swiping on dating profiles that you will never agree to see. And for the love of God, will you stop playing the same Grey's Anatomy playlist over and OVER again in this household. You are not Meredith Grey, you are Olivia Park! You haven't had any friends here since you've moved in last summer. And you haven't, not one bit, taken the time to realize that you are not a mess - you are a beautiful warrior emerging from her slumber. And there isn't a single soul but yourself who can save you."

I stared blankly at my cat, truly realizing that he had been possessed by this historical figure.

"You're pretty good when it comes to the ladies. Is that why you had a buttload of wives?" I asked.

"Is that truly all you got from this conversation?"

I plop backwards onto my couch and groan loudly enough for it to be intentionally dramatic. His words swung into my conciousness like a guiottine - a tool I am sure he was all too familiar with.

"How does have time for all of this nonsense when work takes up my life? This job is all I have." I myself couldn't believe I said that out loud.

My cat began to tut at me. "Can you hear yourself speaking?"

"I can, and for some reason, I can also hear you speak which makes me think, I should immediately email my therapist for an urgent appointment tomorrow."

"If you tell her you are hearing me talk, you will surely have more things to deal with..." he teased, as he rolled on top of his back, exposing his big white belly. The temptation to give him scratches was there, but I simply had to refrain as to now encourage this behaviour. It only worked when he meowed.

"Leave your job. Find something else. And while you are at it, get a raise so I can have a playmate or two... it does get lonely when you're away." Ah yes, he was a male cat afterall.

"Even your urges as a cat, Jeoffr-"

"King Henry the EIGHTH to you, madam," he hissed. Quite literally.

"It's just hard to get this all done. I don't even know who I am since you know... the divo-"

"The divorce this, the divorce that. Woman, you CHOSE to break free from the shackles of that strange man who was having an affair. God, I recall all the evenings you would watch videos of you two together, sobbing to bits like he had died. You two were not compatible - you just did not want to feel alone after your parents died. This guilt - it's preventing you from seeing clearly. It's preventing you from understanding that grief, is an inevitable cycle as are the seasons. We must face it head on, no matter how much it scares us."

"Seriously, I am starting to understand why you were so good at talking to the ladies-" I wondered, if anyone had walked in at this moment in time, would they simply see my cat meowing at me, or would they hear him too?

"Olivia please, what I am trying to say is. It's time you moved on. It's time you stopped blaming others for your misery. You can change your future, if you are looking to face your present head on."

I felt a pang in my chest, a panic attack in the making. Why was I suddenly crying?

"And please, quit your job. You know better than anyone that being an Operations Manager at a tech company was the last thing you had dreamed of."

With his big green eyes he stared into my soul and asked the daunting question, "What is it, that you actually dream of doing?"

"I always wanted to write a book. But I don't know where to start."

King Henry VIII jumped up on my lap and began to nozzle his head against my chin as the tears continuously kept coming. I never thought I would see the day that the reincarnation of Henry VIII would be my cat, and comfort me in such a small, and furry form.

"Then write the book... but only while you find a job that is suited to feed me and ensure that I remain well kept as your king."

I was sobbing now, allowing myself to release years of frustration. My nervous system was beckoning me to listen to it, saying it's time to let go.

"Anything for you, your Highness."

I began to feel sleepy and closed my eyes as I continued to hold him close to my chest. His tiny heartbeat brought me to the present, looking forward to my own happy ending. He began to form cookies on my arms, gripping his little paws, one after the other.

The following morning, I woke up to find that Jeoffrey was back to his old ways - meowable and playful as if nothing had ever happened. Was I sad? Definitely not, it meant I had some inch of my sanity left.

As I got ready to head to work, I realized that this would be my last day at this shithole. No more excuses, it was time to start anew.