In other words, we have a Bunaruru — a weird creature that you'd swear was mythical until you have one in your bedroom at 5 am. I read about them long ago; I can't remember where. Edward Gorey was probably familiar with them. A changeable creature, the Bunaruru takes on an uncanny resemblance to your cat, but it's not your cat. Your cat squirrels itself away in its safest hiding spot when the Bunaruru chooses to visit your house. Those visits are always short but memorable.
It's hard to photograph a Bunaruru, but I was determined to get proof of their existence. I managed to get one shot after many attempts.
This cross-eyed, airplane-eared beast, bent on destruction, is not Harris.
At our place, the Bunaruru only takes the form of Harris, the sweetest and most innocent of our cats. We have never seen it impersonate Possum, Wendy, or Toffee, or any of our departed cats except, perhaps, Snalbert, who died last summer. We missed his occasional, unfathomable episodes of weird howling and stampeding — we didn't realize that it probably wasn't him. It was the Bunaruru, and it's come back.