When my friend Mariette asked me to house sit, I was all about it. First off, she has a nice house near a park and a stream and a liquor store. In the front yard there’s a tire swing spray-painted red. And I have not yet mentioned the Wii.

“You’d have to take care of Kenny Corndog as well, is that okay?”

I said, “Sure.” I just wanted to get paid to hang out in that awesome house and maybe do a little snooping. I have my suspicions that Mariette is connected with the KGB. As I sat in her teal easy chair, a black cat slinked across my feet. It showed me one of its fangs and walked right past me. “You have a cat?” I inquired.

“That’s Kenny Corndog,” she said slowly, as if she was doing some major thinking at the same time.

I had no idea. I thought that Kenny Corndog was a stuffed animal, someone’s nephew, or a Muppet. I would not have signed on to this had I known it would involve a freaking cat. I’ve been to Mariette’s house many a time and never once noticed a cat. We’ve had space-themed parties, Twin Peaks parties, ugly sweater parties, and dress up as your favorite psychologists parties. Apparently during these soirées, Mr. Corndog was kept in the bedroom so as not to disturb those with cat allergies.

The cat came walking by me again, and I gave it the sign of the cross. “Get back,” I yelled.

Mariette left with a strange look on her face. Maybe she was nervous about her meeting in Richardson, or maybe she was thinking of how much she would miss me. I told her not to worry and that I would call her.

When she finally drove away, shaking her head and mumbling to herself, I was stuck with the favorite demonic partner of evil witches worldwide… a cat. I did not want to start my year off with a whole bunch of bad juju.

So instead of just leaving things to chance and hope while staying in close proximity to a bad omen like Kenny Corndog here, I decided I was going to change my own luck. I blended up a mix of four-leaf clovers, holy water, and dice that had been blown on and fed it to Kenny. He lapped it up, and I cheered him on. Maybe I could rid him of all his bad vibes.

I bought several candles from the grocery store with Jesus or saints or hands with eyes in the palms and lit them all. I tied a rabbit’s foot around the cat’s neck. I also purchased a case of Lucky Charms. Not only are they magically delicious, they are just teeming with good luck charms. I ate only bowls of that awesome cereal for the three days that Mariette was gone. I don’t take chances with my luck and neither should you if you ever find yourself in a similar situation.

When I was sleeping on the couch Kenny Corndog climbed onto my chest and purred me awake. I woke up terrified to have this evil thing sitting so close to my heart. He looked at me without expression, and I closed my eyes so he could not steal my soul. I told him that the power of Christ compels him, but he didn’t listen. He just wanted to snuggle. No way in hell was that going to happen. I threw him off of me and screamed. He crashed into one of the small altars I had made. The candles smashed onto the floor and set fire to some of Mariette’s mail. Thanks a lot, Chase Bank.

The junk mail blazed quickly, and the growing fire soon spread to some arty magazines and some cookbooks. Kenny Corndog darted under the couch in fear, and I had to save the house solo. I ran to the kitchen, grabbed a Vitamin Water, and threw it on the fire. It grew bigger. I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and tried to smother the flames. But by then they were taller than me, crackling and swaying and laughing like some hyena in the shadows. I ran out of the house, my eyebrows already singed off. I would have to cancel the Vidal Sassoon photo shoot, I knew that much.

I barely managed to leap out of the front door and onto the lawn before the whole house went up in flames. Mariette would probably ask for her house sitting money back. I called 911 and watched the awesome house we had all had so much fun in grow black and turn to ash that the breeze twirled into the air.

Then I heard a meow.

Kenny Corndog was still in there. A part of me said, “Let the evil creature return to his home in Hades,” but a part of me was soft. I ran back inside, crouching like a crab. Every room was filled with blinding smoke. I shouted to Kenny Corndog to meow again so I could find him.

“Meow you cursed beast!”

And he did. I found him lodged behind a bookshelf, shivering in fear. I tucked him close to my chest and jumped through a window. In the movies, it’s easy. You hop through the glass, tumble on the ground, and shoot back up. But I’m here as always to deliver some truth to you. In real life, the glass slices through every part of your body. Your face is a bloody (not in the British sense) mess and you have glass stuck in your lungs and you squirm on the grass and hope and pray and nearly pass out. I did save Kenny Corndog, but apparently the lucky concoction I had been feeding him sent him into a coma. He froze in a fetal position.

When Mariette returned from her business trip, I was being put onto a gurney, a man in a uniform was giving her cat CPR, and her house could fit in three garbage bags. She ran up to me.

“How’d the trip go?” I asked.

She just shook her head and started bawling. I’ve always said it is hard to do business in Richardson.