Feline projection

Hobbes the cat had a good life.

Every morning, his human got up at the crack of dawn and filled his bowl before heading out on a morning jog. Hobbes would finish meal, find a spot that the sun was starting to warm, and get ready to begin his day's hard work. A warm spot was important, since astral projection brought a chill to his bones. So, he'd find a good place to settle down, yawn, close his eyes, and open his inner eyes.

Nothing escaped his watchful eyes.

Some days, he'd spy a fairy. They liked to play tricks on his human, hiding socks and the like. They were also wonderfully crunchy.

Nightmares also passed by, wisps of shadow searching for a mind to latch onto. They didn't taste so good, but boy was it fun to watch them flutter helplessly under his astral paws.

Dust spirits made him sneeze, so he just chased them away when one grew too bold.

Once, an imp tried to sneak a nasty fever past him. That one he played with for a while, tossing it up into the air and pinning its tail to the floor while it squeaked bloody murder.

Then it would be time for his midday stroll. Not all pests were of the astral variety. A spider here, a fly there. Nothing escaped his attention for long.

Pests taken care of, it was time for another projection. With the sun high overhead, there was no shortage of fine, warm spots to settle back down. Today deserved something special though, and his owner was working from the couch. Those fuzzy slippers next to him would do nicely, and he wouldn't have to project very far at all.

And then, back it was to chasing bad mojo, herding yawns, and so on. Curses got the claw, malaise turned to trophies, and cloying clotters fertilized the catnip.

The sun would set, and once he was rewarded with his well-earned ear scratches, he'd release the fuzzy slippers back into his human's custody.

Dinner time follows, then a nap in front of the bedroom door to make sure his human didn't forget about their arrangement for bedtime snuggles.

Life was good.