The cat's yowl jolted me out of a deep sleep. Too groggy to wonder how it had gotten into my bedroom, I stumbled out of bed and shooed it toward the front door.

Big yellow moon eyes glowing in the dark, the cat stared at me, flicked its tail, and trotted down the hall.

Glad it was as eager to leave as I was to evict it, I opened the door. A fierce wind pulled it out of my hand. One second later the suction of a cosmic vacuum cleaner caught me in its swirl, and I was pulled down one of those tunnels reported by people who had near-death experiences, except that I didn't see the light. I saw prison bars, and, once I got oriented, I realized I was behind them.

The cat had disappeared.