I approached Jazz, my warm fuzzy feline friend, by slowly crawling toward him. He emitted the wisest feeling of understanding as if he knew I was a baby. I bit his leg. He didn’t retaliate because he knew I wasn’t intentionally hurting him. To say the least, he didn’t seem to care. But this was a defining moment for the cat because it showed he understood the purpose of me biting his leg; I was just learning through biting stuff.

Later that day, I laid down on him just like a pillow and took a nap. My parents laughed at the sight, and it imprinted in their memory forever. But I don't remember having a cat at all. All of these memories are ones my parents told me. To me, Jazz never truly existed. I find it strange that I don't remember actually having any cat at all. It truly baffles me how I could lose such a seemingly important memory. I actually didn't just forget one story about Jazz, but every single moment involving him. But how could I forget him when he was probably the greatest thing that ever happened to me as a child?

Fourteen years later, I was in my bed fast asleep. Something came together in my subconscious. I was dreaming:

It all started in 2004, when I was 13 years old. The day began like any Saturday, except for one thing: the sky was tinted red. I sat down at my computer desk, which was covered in piles of papers and sticky notes. I booted up my computer that sat in the middle of the desk and began typing an essay for school. Suddenly I heard a loud crash and crack coming from outside. A gigantic red space ship descended from the sky and hovered over the cul-de-sac. The entrance of the ship opened like a plane door, and a platform extended down to the ground. Three alien species, which resembled humans remarkably, walked down the platform. They scanned the earth for a good candidate to abduct. They spotted my computer and me through the window and jolted in the direction of my house. I heard a frog croak.

I remember seeing a movie about an alien invasion: They would slice me open while I was still alive and take pleasure in removing my organs.

They dragged Jazz and me into the ship. Its interior was light brown all over. It was the same one I saw in the movies. They proceeded to inject me with Translator Microbes, which enabled us to speak to each other. I scanned the brown ship of death with my fearful eyes. I stopped scanning because I spotted the most beautiful computer setup I have ever seen in my life. Three wide screen monitors were connected to a supercomputer. They motioned me towards the huge setup, so I took my rightful seat in my perfect throne. The look in my eyes changed from fearful to the happiest they had ever been. I pressed the silver shiny button, and the computer started. Not a half-second later, some weird system that I had never seen before booted up. One of them said, “Your job is to write a virus that will infect the entire Robo-Man population.” I heard a frog croak. I asked them, “What is this kind of computer? I don’t know what this is.” That was the wrong thing to say if I wanted to keep that awesome computer setup.

The aliens turned to each other and said, “He has no idea what he is doing. We have the wrong human.” Realizing that I was not their planet’s savior, they grabbed me by the arms. They drug me to a cold, dark room that had a hint of neon blue lighting. A leather chair was in the center of the room and they shoved me into it. Metal straps permeated out of the chair’s nice leather and wrapped around my hands, legs, and head. Had the situation not been so out of my hands I would have considered this chair to be quite comfortable.

“What do you see there?” He pointed to my cat.

“Uh,” I said, “I see my cat.”

He pushed a button on the chair’s control panel. A blue light shined onto my forehead.

Apparently the blue light made me feel dizzy. I asked, “Whoa! What just happened?”

“What do you see there?” He pointed to my cat again.

“I dunno. Some cat I’ve never seen before,” I responded.

They looked at each other and one said, “Good, the Memory Wipe works with this species.”

The blue light shined on my forehead again. The next thing I knew, I woke up in my room. I heard a frog croak and a big crash and boom from outside. I looked out of the window. And there they were, the space ship exited Earth to find a more capable savior. And unknown to me, my cat was gone with them.

And that is where the dream ended. It seems clear to me, though, that I do not remember my cat because aliens wiped my memories.

Jazz may be gone or he may be a conspiracy, but one thing I'm sure about is that if he were real he would have been the best cat ever. But what do I care? I've got the joy of a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup. And now I even have a better computer than they had. One day I will find them and get my cat back. For all I know, the aliens could be stroking him right now.