Ach ja, als Katzeninspiration lohnen sich natürlich auch die verschiedenen Neil Gaiman Kurzgeschichten. "A Dream of a Thousand Cats" aus Sandman, "The Price" (in mehreren Kurzgeschichtensammlungen, passt eigentlich original, weil es über eine Katze ist, die jede Nacht gegen den Teufel kämpft, um eine Familie zu beschützen) und die Katze aus Coraline fand ich auch gut:
„Good afternoon“, said the cat.
Its voice sounded like the voice at the back of Coralines’s head, the voice she thought words in, but a man’s voice, not a girl’s.
“Hello”, said Coraline. “I saw a cat like you in the garden at home. You must be the other cat.”
The cat shook its head. “No”, it said. “I’m not the other anything. I’m me.” It tipped its head on one side, green eyes glinted. “You people are spread all over the place. Cats, on the other hand, keep ourselves together, If you see what I mean.”
“I suppose. But if you’re the same cat I saw at home, how can you talk?”
Cats don’t have shoulders, not like people do. But the cat shrugged, in one smooth movement that started at the tip of its tail and ended in a raised movement of its whiskers. “I can talk.”
“Cats don’t talk at home.”
“No?” said the cat.
“No”, said Coraline.
The cat leapt smoothly from the wall to the grass, near Coraline’s feet. It stared up at her.
“Well, you’re the expert on these things”, said the cat dryly. “After all, what would I know? I’m only a cat.”
It began to walk away, head and tail held high and proud.
“Come back”, said Coraline. “Please. I’m sorry. I really am.”
The cat stopped walking, and sat down, and began to wash itself, thoughtfully, apparently unaware of Coraline’s existence.
“We… we could be friends, you know”, said Coraline.
“We could be rare specimen of an exotic breed of African dancing elephants”, said the cat. “But we’re not. At least”, it added cattily, after darting a brief look at Coraline, “I’m not.”
Coraline sighed.
“Please. What’s your name?” Coraline asked the cat. “Look, I’m Coraline. Okay?”
The cat yawned slowly, carefully, revealing a mouth and tongue of astounding pinkness. “Cats don’t have names”, it said.
“No?” said Coraline.
“No”, said the cat. “Now, you people have names. That’s because you don’t know who you are. We know who we are, so we don’t need names.”
There was something irritatingly self-centred about the cat, Coraline decided. As if it were, in its opinion, the only thing in any world or place that could possibly be of any importance.
