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A Cat Sanctuary Story

Emecheta Christian

I never expected enlightenment in a cat sanctuary, but that's exactly where I met Aufgabe. We often say funny things behind his back, though nobody dared say them to his face. Not that it would have ruffled him—nothing ever did.

I remember the first time I saw him. His head looked glossy under the LED lights of our industrial-chic lobby, and a few strands of silver-dyed hair artfully gelled at his nape. He was pushing a mop across our polished concrete floors with the focus of a Zen master painting calligraphy.

"Hey there! I'm Sage Unix," I called out, my platform Doc Martens clicking against the floor as I approached. "I'm the Development Director. Are you one of our new volunteers?"

He flicked his wrist, sending a shower of cat hair dancing in the morning light; they streamed through the floor to the ceiling and windows. "I am Aufgabe Hank. A fresh start, a fresh day. Nice meeting you Sage." His voice carried the kind of gravelly wisdom you'd expect from someone who'd seen every corner of the world.

I launched into my usual spiel—the one I could recite in my sleep after five years at Purrs & Purpose, Portland's premier cage-free cat sanctuary. "We're stoked to have you join our family!"

Aufgabe winked at me, but not in that creepy way older men sometimes do. It was more like a Buddhist monk acknowledging a fellow seeker. "I love being here already, it’s all vibes," he said—turning back to his mop.

A calico cat with an attitude problem—we called her Queen Victoria—watched him from her perch on our vintage reception desk, her tail twitching with calculated indifference.

"Found any favorites yet?" I gestured toward Her Majesty.

"Today is my favorite," he replied, his back already turned. I'd been filed away in whatever minimalist mental storage system he operated on.

Later, I cornered Lora, our Volunteer Coordinator, in the break room. She was heating some vegan ramen while winding through TikTok. "What's the tea on the new guy?"

"Aufgabe?" She looked up, her purple hair catching the bright light. "Word is he was some big tech executive. Maybe Google or Meta? But like, he just ghosted corporate life one day. Total main character energy."

"He's giving wise sage NPC vibes," I said, watching through the window as he hauled industrial-sized litter boxes like they were made of cardboard. "But make it philosophical."

Lora snorted. "Zara's probably going to think he's either totally Zen or completely unhinged."

Zara, our founder, had built this sanctuary from crypto gains and pure determination after a single rescue cat changed her whole perspective on life. She'd cashed out her Bitcoin at just the right moment, turning her meme coin fortune into a haven for cats that other shelters had given up on.

Our setup was like a luxury cat hotel meets bohemian coffee shop, complete with "cat suites" featuring custom cat trees and LED mood lighting. Every day was a hustle to keep it running—me chasing donations through Instagram and TikTok, Lora recruiting an army of cat-obsessed volunteers through her viral social media posts.

And now we had Aufgabe.

When tornado warnings lit up our phones, Aufgabe mopped. When half our volunteer team called out with the latest COVID variant, Aufgabe continued to mop. While you tried to decode his existence, Aufgabe just... mopped.

"Morning, Aufgabe!" I called out one day, my vintage golden necklace reflecting the light.

"Radiant Sage, good morning." He didn't need to look up anymore; he'd become part of the sanctuary's DNA.

"How's your Thursday energy?"

"Phenomenal."

The answer never changed, but somehow it felt like a different revelation every time.

"Everything in alignment?"

"There are no bad days," he said, his mop moving in perfect rhythm, "only moments that haven't revealed their purpose yet." Left, right, left, right. I could never decide if his mopping was more like tai chi or experimental dance—each stroke was either perfectly calculated or completely improvised.

The cats treated him like their guru. Even as they wrinkled their noses at his industrial-strength cleaning solution (he believed in maximum sanitation), they followed him around like disciples. I kept asking him questions, even when I knew his answers would be more like cosmic riddles than actual information.

"So, what was your life before becoming our resident mystic?"

"Radiant Sage, I'm just a guy with a mop. Had my time in the matrix until I took the red pill." Left, right, left, right. A three-legged tabby named Trinity rolled over at his feet like she was receiving an anointing. "The universe called. I answered."

Aufgabe asked fewer questions than in your average influencer's comment section, but when my attempts to decipher his outlook made me ramble, he listened with the intensity of someone decoding ancient texts. He didn't do the active listening head-tilt thing they teach in corporate workshops. He just absorbed everything while continuing his eternal routine with the mop.

"Morning, Aufgabe! Friday serving the right aesthetic?"

"Phenomenal."

"Your vibe check always makes my day better."

"You've got good energy, Radiant Sage." His mop never stopped moving.

"Not everyone appreciates the positive wavelength." I fidgeted with my crystal bracelet, feeling suddenly exposed.

"No?" Left, right, left, right.

"The world's kind of toxic toward genuinely optimistic people." I adjusted my oversized vintage denim jacket. "Main character syndrome, they call it."

"That so?"

"You know—people who care too much. Animal people. Plant parents. Crystal girlies. But we move forward anyway, right?"

"I just channel my authentic self." Left, right, left, right, paying no mind to the tuxedo cat doing yoga poses before him. "Other people's algorithms aren't my concern. Never were."

Lora and I gave Aufgabe space when his replies drifted into cryptic territory, but Zara was determined to crack his code. She'd share her findings during our weekly team meetings, like someone piecing together an ARG.

"Aufgabe claims he's been everywhere except South Sudan and mainland China," Zara announced, her green tea kombucha forgotten. "Sounds cap, but he's the most genuine person I've ever met. I need to know more."

Zara questioned everyone. During my interview last year, she'd gone full detective mode about my background. "A degree in Consciousness Studies from Naroda University? Is that even real, or did you manifest it through TikTok manifestation techniques?"

"It's legit," I'd said, cradling a one-eyed kitten named Blinken.

"And why should I trust a burnt-out spiritual influencer to raise money for traumatized cats?"

I was twenty-five and running on pure audacity, powered by the presence of Blinken purring in my arms. "Well, the universe has a way of connecting kindred spirits. Also, I have 50K followers on Instagram."

My official welcome email was addressed to "Sage, Digital Priestess of the Feline Faith."

Aufgabe's daily "phenomenal" was rewiring my spiritual operating system. Like a cat carefully kneading a favorite blanket, his Zen koans slowly transformed my relationship with reality.

Finally, I had to dig deeper.

"Morning, Aufgabe! How's Mercury retrograde treating you?"

"Phenomenal."

"You showed up despite the black ice warning."

"Nature's putting on a light show out there. Sacred geometry in every icicle. What's the worst that could happen?" Left, right, left, right.

"Could be a rough day if you hit a patch wrong."

"There are no rough days, only moments asking for a perspective shift." Classic Aufgabe.

I watched his mop head, looking like some kind of working-class performance art. "Aufgabe, I need to ask you something."

"Mm?"

"Your energy... it's like a daily reset button for my soul. Are you on a spiritual path?"

For once, he paused. He retreated to a corner where Queen Victoria held court, paying no mind to our collective coughing fit from his industrial-strength cleaning solution.

"Everyone's on a spiritual path," he finally said. Left, right, left, right. "But I don't do labels or organized disco fiascos."

"I can't picture you doing group meditation sessions."

"These hands stay busy. But word is you've got some history with the metaphysical realm."

How did he know about my past life as a crystal shop owner? "History and mystery," I channeled his energy. "Pretty deconstructed these days, but... yeah, it's part of why I'm here."

"You're exactly where you need to be." Aufgabe never broke his rhythm. "Radiant. Authentic."

I didn't tell my partner Morgan much about Aufgabe. Years of being called "woo-woo" had taught me to protect the mystics and misfits in my life from skeptical energy.

But for some reason, I mentioned that Aufgabe called me authentic.

"Who is this guy anyway?" Morgan's fingers never left their retro keyboard, the click-clack of their gaming session creating a wall between us.

"He maintains the sanctuary's immaculate vibes. We exchange morning blessings."

"Authentic Sage." Morgan's avatar died on screen. "Well, at least there's another stellar person at your cat commune. It's giving cult energy though."

Morgan had never vibed with my work or my friends—"all those crystal-hoarding plant moms with their emotional support cats." They warned me about getting canceled as a spiritual nerd. They regularly reminded me that "when we need to level up our income, you'll have to touch grass and join the corporate NPCs."

I kept my spiritual awakening journal hidden under a stack of tarot cards.

"Happy Monday, bestie!" I called out, my rose quartz pendant catching the morning light.

"Every Monday's a gift." He stopped mopping—an unprecedented event that made Queen Victoria sit up straight. "Got a sec for this elderly millennial?"

"Only if you're about to drop some life-changing wisdom."

Aufgabe met my eyes for the first time. They were jade green, like ancient Chinese carvings. "Give me a minute."

He propped his mop against the wall (Queen Victoria immediately began inspecting it) and disappeared into Zara's office, leaving me standing there like a glitching game character.

"I curated these for your journey." He returned with an armful of worn books; their spines cracked with experience.

"What are..." he cut me off.

"Ever heard of the Camino?"

"That viral hiking challenge on TikTok?"

"OG version. Ancient pilgrimage through Spain and France. I've walked it six times." He extended the stack. "It's calling you."

"I don't think I can just..."

"You're being called to level up. You'll meet your soul tribe. You'll download wisdom you didn't know you needed." He retrieved his mop, breaking our longest-ever eye conversation. "The cats will evolve too. Trust the process."

I stashed the books in my thrifted Fjällräven backpack and scrolled through Camino hashtags on TikTok. Later, I floated the idea of a six-week sabbatical to Zara.

"You could run our socials from Mars—I'm not stressed. Just don't come back with a lifestyle brand called 'Wanderlust Witch' or something."

"Zero risk of that."

The sanctuary's TikTok was popping off that fall, and Zara thought the time was right for a major crowdfunding campaign.

Morgan barely looked up from their Discord chat when I mentioned it. "Going viral?"

"Zara thinks we can manifest this." I didn't mention my growing playlist of Camino vlogs.

"Don't let your anxiety write checks your bandwidth can't cash."

"I won't." I kept my Pinterest board of hiking gear private.

The rumor mill said Aufgabe had serious crypto gains—"probably an early Bitcoin adopter," Lora had revealed over oat milk lattes; "a lowkey, billionaire." I felt strangely aligned asking him to support our campaign. I shouldn't have mentioned it to Morgan.

"The mysterious janitor is secretly Satoshi Nakamoto?" Their Discord friends laughed through the headset.

"Based on my research and social listening"

"Careful dear. You might scare off your only work friend. Are you trying to get your spiritual advisor to tell you his most cherished secret?"

I scanned Morgan's friend count; mostly gaming buddies they'd never met in real life and the real world they called "toxic." Their social circle was giving empty lobby energy. The person warning me about losing connections had none.

I guess Morgan has turned out to be a major red flag.

He jumped up and started fake-mopping energetically in my presence, complete with TikTok dance moves. His cyber friends joined in on the drama, their voices went full cringe as they mimicked me:

"Good morning, bestie! What's the tea?"

"Morning, Aufgabe! How are you?"

I tried to maintain my peace, but the mock convo continued.

"Living my best life, queen! What can I do for you today?"

Morgan's performance was very embarrassing and funny to watch.

"I wanted to discuss our crowdfunding campaign..."

Morgan's face twisted into something between a YouTuber thumbnail and a cursed emoji. "Sorry bestie, I have already donated my funds to this place. Take that main character energy somewhere else."

I was annoyed because the actual conversation with Aufgabe usually went differently. Very differently.

The next morning, I found Aufgabe in his usual spot, but something was different. Queen Victoria wasn't just watching—she was walking beside him, matching his rhythm perfectly.

"Phenomenal morning," I said, trying to channel his energy.

He smiled, actually smiled. "Ready for your quest?"

I took a deep breath. "I ended things with my boyfriend last night. He called my work here a 'cat cult' one too many times. Said I was living in a spiritual fantasy world."

"Letting go creates space for growth." Left, right, left, right. He continued mopping "Like these floors—got to sweep away the old to welcome the new."

"About the fundraising campaign—" I started.

"Already done." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn leather wallet. Instead of cash or cards, he extracted a small piece of paper. "Your plane ticket to Spain. The Camino awaits."

I stared at the ticket, my hands trembling. "Aufgabe, I can't—"

"The sanctuary's covered for the next year." He never stopped mopping. "Made some calls to my old tech friends. Turns out they love cats too. Funny how the universe works."

"But why?"

"Because you're ready." He gestured toward Queen Victoria, who was now curled up in a patch of sunlight. "Even Her Majesty knows it. Sometimes the greatest act of service is letting yourself be transformed."

Zara burst through the doors, her eyes wild with excitement. "Sage! The donations—they're insane! Some anonymous donor just matched our entire yearly goal!"

I looked at Aufgabe, but he was focused on his mopping, humming softly to himself.

 

***

 

Three months later, I stood on a hill overlooking Santiago de Compostela, my hiking boots worn and my spirit soaring. My TikTok series "Camino Cats" had gone viral—turns out people love watching pilgrims rescue strays along lonely dirt paths. Each episode ended with an affirmation, followed by a short clip of different cats I met along the way.

My last video call with Zara had been full of news. The sanctuary had expanded, adding a "Zen Garden" where visitors could meditate with the cats. Queen Victoria had appointed herself head meditation guide. Funny right?

"And Aufgabe?" I'd asked.

"Real thing," Zara said, adjusting her camera. "The day after you left, he handed me his mop and said his work here was done. But he left something for you."

Back home, I found a small package waiting. Inside was a single cat toy—a miniature mop—and a note written in perfect calligraphy:

"The greatest enlightenment comes not from seeking wisdom, but from being exactly who you are. Keep mopping, Radiant Sage. - A.H."

I hung the toy mop in my office at the sanctuary, where I now serve as Director of Spiritual Wellness. Every morning, I exchange knowing looks with Queen Victoria as she conducts her meditation circles. Sometimes, when the light hits just right, I swear I can see Aufgabe's reflection in the polished concrete floors, still moving in that perfect rhythm—left, right, left, right—reminding me that every day is, indeed, phenomenal.

And somewhere in my feelings, I know he's still mopping, still teaching, still appearing exactly when and where he's needed most. Isn’t that what spiritual guides do? They might come disguised as janitors with a mastery of cleaning while dispersing cryptic wisdom.

Aufgabe taught me something powerful about enlightenment—it doesn't have to always arrive in the package we expect. Sometimes it comes with a mop, cryptic responses, a one-way ticket to Spain, and a cat named Queen Victoria who knew the truth all along.

Phenomenal, isn't it?

 

Emecheta Christian is a vivid writer whose work explores themes of self-actualization, belonging, and the complexities of the human experience. His works have appeared in esteemed literary journals and anthologies such as The Potter's Poetry, Indiana Review, Oxford American, Four Way Review, the Academy of American Poets Poem-A-Day Series, and elsewhere. He has been recognized with several awards, including the Iroko Award and The Dorothy Hewett Award. Emecheta's unique voice and evocative imagery have garnered him a growing reputation as a voice of change in the global literary scene.


1 Comment


Truly Phenomenal! Enjoyed reading every word.

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