If truth be told, I am the one who runs this
household. You know that cat, or
should I say impostor, who is writing the
cat's daily journal, the one found all over
the internet exposing the sequential
anecdotes of the household/indoor cat
imprisoned within the confines of four
neutrally painted walls that my captors call
a home?
Well, that's me. I'm that cat!
Don't let my cute pictures fool you.
It is now day 763 of my captivity.
My days are spent idly, sleeping, leaving a trail of hair
wherever I go, stretching (sometimes I use the furniture)
yawning, eating that canned mush they feed me instead of
the wild raw meat I so desperately crave, and swatting at the
occasional dog as it goes by. My nights are spent
wandering through the darkness, watching "them" sleep as I plan
my escape. So far, my attempts have been limited to trying
to sneak out the door the instant it is open. They always
manage to catch me though. I need to be more precise with
my timing, try to blend in more with the dogs.
They do occasionally let me out on the
porch for fresh air in the summer, where I am allowed to catch
flies and other bugs - it is the closest I get to eating raw
meat. At times, they will put me in a harness and let me
wander in the grass, though I often end up being dragged around
against my will. Sometimes, they will even put me in an
enclosed pen in the shade, where I am tortured by that elusive
taste of freedom as the wind blows through my face and the birds
dance just out of reach.
I seem to have more privileges than the
dogs at least. For instance, I can cruise the counter
tops, until I get caught of course, and I have learned that if I
knock things onto the floor they will feed me a snack... even
the one called Princess can't do that. I also do not have
to poop outside when it is cold like they do. I watch them
sometimes from the window, laughing, as I see them lift
their feet from the cold snow, trying to balance themselves on
three legs as they are "forced" to do their jobs outside.
For the most
part, I am able to tolerate the dogs,
though there is one they call Munchkin, that torments me the
most. Always trying to steal my food, chasing me, getting
in my face. One of these days, when they are not looking,
I will exact my revenge.
In the meantime, I content myself by
swatting at my captors and the dogs when they walk by, biting
whomever I please whenever I get the chance (they think I am playing), stealing their food,
leaving my hair everywhere, and
planning my escape...
My mother, (cough, cough), keeps
threatening to get rid of me if I don't smarten up, but the
father won't let her. So guess who I don't bite?
Even though it is the mother who feeds me and cleans up my
litter box, which by the way, mother, if you're reading this,
the litter box cleaning is overdue. And thanks so much for bringing me
a friend, Jesse, and those puppies... honestly, could have done without...
It is now day 764 of my captivity...
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