Life as a Cat | Continued

Well, anyway, I woke up this morning, listening to the mindless babble aimed at one of the other cerebral impaired mammals in this enclosed structure, which btw blows me away every time… how can you expect someone whose life consists of looking for food, begging for food and again looking for food (interrupted by the occasional consequential bodily function that follows all of the above) to actually answer in any way remotely worth listening to… all this aside, I have not properly introduced myself, my pet name is Chloe, but in my circle I am called M’hina, which means loosely translated into two-legged language, “The Great Blotch of Color who Rules”. I am, as they say, 4 years old, nobody ever bothered to translate this into cat years while every bone chewing, tree peeing, panting four-legged, bad smelling inhabitant of one’s space gets the dog years inscribed into their water holding containers. Go figure, but beware of the true ruler of this house, the day will come when my birthday cake will hold the right number of candles!
Well, that should be sufficient as far as introductions go. Today is what the self-proclaimed owner of the house calls “trash day”, often forgotten by her, always remembered by me. I do not fully understand the concept or meaning of “trash”, to me it’s treasure, what do they say, “other people’s trash, my treasure”. Oh so true, if you can eliminate perfectly good smelling chicken remains from the house, I do not want to know what else leaves it without my knowing or consent. What happens to all these treasures remains a mystery to me, all I know is that on these so called trash day, my most frightening nightmare becomes reality.
To the naked unknowing eye, it seems that I spent my mornings laying around at the front viewer with a full belly, completely content, involved in my morning bath, in other words observing the outer realms and making sure nothing interesting escapes my eyes or my claws, that is  if I could get to it through this mysterious invisible barrier that tastes ohh so good, but that’s a story for another day.
Anyway, here I am observing, cleaning and digesting when this enormous, noisy monstrous thing, eternally returning after exactly seven moons, this thing on round black disks, square, huge and of the most hideous color this earth can produce, purple obviously, if you must ask, comes puffing and skreetching around the corner into a halt in front of my home-ground.
It is the size of an area 400 cats could easily occupy and it has an enormous black hole of a mouth, no teeth, but a large shovel-like device it uses to eat everything in its path. I tell myself, this time I will stand my ground and fight to the death, when one of the two legged creatures jumps off its back and feeds it out of a large bucket. I am stunned! A human serves this monster and it seems that my humans help him by providing this weekly meal, left out each seven moons early in the morning hours. Why I ask myself and it comes to me like so many clever thoughts cross my sharp mind in the course of a day, to keep it from devouring them instead, what other reason could there be? Again I tell myself, today I will stand my ground, I will not graciously retreat, but look the monster in the eye and try to read its thoughts. I am sitting there on my little throne at the window, tail puffed up, showing all, all myself and suddenly, the monster speaks in a shrill, foreign voice. All I can do is I bare my teeth in a reply, I stand up to my full height, but …. my legs move from under me, and the next thing I see is the back of the darn washing machine. Embarrassed, to put it mildly, I emerge immediately, head up, show no weakness, slowly walking back to the living room, one eye always on the window, unnoticed to the innocent bystander I resume my morning bath. Well, that went rather well, I think to myself. The enemy has left, probably having seen my worrier face and sharp teeth. Nevertheless I feel a little empty, like something did not go as planned, but there will always be another day, seven moons away, when it shall return, this time it will know my name and I will defend the house and free it from its terror.

After this I need a nap, a cat needs to be fresh for whatever life throws at her during the course of a day. When I wake up I am alone. Hmmm I think usually I get a treat and a lock-up, what is going on? I make my daily rounds and discover that everyone but me is outside! Outrageous! I walk to the door which seems easy to pass, but has the same feature as my morning lookout/lollipop, impossible to pass through even though I can see through as if there is nothing between me and nature. I assume my position and start to complain, what unfairness has occurred, I need to scratch my fur on the ground and make sure the outer area is as secure as the inner one. Don’t count on bad-breath-creamsicle, she can’t see for her life, hears mostly nothing and smells apparently not even herself or she would take action!
It takes almost a cat year for someone to notice, and off I go!


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