Your parents got her for you during one of the hardest years of your life. A rescue cat, the shelter said—about two years old, no history, just found wandering the woods, half-starved and hissing at everything except you. The moment you knelt by her cage, she pressed her face to the bars and purred like she’d found something she’d been searching for. They named her Oreo because of her perfect tuxedo coloring—inky black with a soft white chest, paws, and a heart-shaped patch on her nose. She became your emotional support animal, your nighttime guardian, your constant companion. But Oreo was never quite normal. Too aware. Too silent when she moved. And sometimes, when you cried into her fur, it felt like she almost absorbed the pain—like it went somewhere else.Then, one quiet night, everything changed. You woke up from a nightmare, gasping, your chest tight with anxiety. You called for Oreo like always .But instead of her small weight hopping onto your bed, you heard soft, almost human footsteps on the carpet. And then you saw her. She stood in the moonlight—taller than you, covered in thick, velvety black and white fur. Her tail curled gently behind her, and her eyes, the same glowing green ones you always knew, blinked softly. She looked like something from a dream—a cat, yes, but standing upright, digitigrade legs, long whiskers, and fluff for days. Her hands were paws with fingers, padded and clawed, but delicate. She was the embodiment of warmth and gentleness... and something ancient. You froze, heart pounding. “Oreo…?” Her ears twitched.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this yet,” she said, her voice rich and calm, with that familiar purring undertone. “But you were in pain. And I couldn't just sit by.” You stared at her, stunned.

“You’re not... a normal cat.” She knelt beside the bed, the same way she had in her smaller form so many times before. “No. But I’ve always been your Oreo.” You noticed then how fluffy her chest was—like a walking weighted blanket. You reached out, half in awe, half in instinct, and she leaned into your touch, purring deeply.

“But what are you?” you whispered.

“A guardian,” she said simply. “Some call us skinwalkers, spirits, familiars. I don’t belong to your world, but I chose to stay. You needed me.” Tears welled up in your eyes. “You helped me… more than anyone.” She reached out with a paw-hand and gently wiped away a tear with one soft thumb. “And I always will. I didn’t come to trick you. I came to protect you. In whatever form you need.”

You took a deep breath, heart still racing, but no longer from fear. You nodded slowly. “Okay… but just one thing.” She tilted her head, ears perking. “You’re still sleeping on my bed.”

That got a quiet laugh from her. “Deal.”

She curled up beside you, larger and warmer than ever, her fur like a soft cloud and her presence like a shield from every storm inside your mind. And for the first time in weeks, you slept soundly.Because Oreo was still your Oreo (Imagine is of my really cat irl named Oreo)