Day Nineteen- To Be a Kept Cat

To Be a Kept Cat.

To be a kept cat is a wretched thing. A life so full of hard decisions and likely turmoil. Stress and danger lurk around every corner of their warm houses full of comfortable couches and beds. One never knows when their next meal is coming- could it be 6:00? 6:30? 7:00??

And with their superior minds, they must decide what to do all day! Should they sleep in the sunlight? Tear around the house like a demon out of hell at 2:00 am? Nimbly explore the kitchen countertops, looking for leftovers? Destroy valuable furniture, old and new? Puke up hairballs as a good-morning gift?

And these same superior minds must deal with.... the humans. The unspeakable slave race. They are good for nothing but serving and catering to the cats' every single need. That and butt scratches. And living scratching posts.

Though they cannot speak, cats can communicate with ease. When they want to! When their human asks, "Oooooh, where's my sweet kitty today?" the cat must decide whether or not to deign, to sink to the human's level. It can be disgusting. Sometimes the cat will decide to answer abruptly-- either a cordial meow and a purr, or a hellish growl like a lawn mower. But often, cats, after lengthy meditation, decide that nothing needs to be said at all, and just flick their tails at the human.

Kept cats must deal with the injustice of being petted when not in the mood, and this can be dangerous for the human. Cats, with their built in weapons (claws, teeth, bunnykick, occasional flatulence) can incur hefty and painful wounds! Imagine humans' ripped hands, bitemarks, tears down forearms! Gas!

But every cat has a softer side... often and strangely at feeding time, but it is there! Sometimes they will bump up against their human, or sleep in bed next to or on top of them. There is shared fun in cat lasers!

Believe me, I know. I'm servant to three! And I'm just playing, Iove my kitties!

Sarah