It's Not Easy Bein' a Cat

 It’s Not Easy Bein’ a Cat

By John W. Vander Velden

 

I’m here to tell you it isn’t easy being a cat.  First off cats don’t get any respect.  Just look at me.  Strong and lean.  I mean I can jump nearly ten time my height for cryin’ out loud.  I move without a sound and can see in total darkness.  Well maybe not total darkness, but close.  My razor sharp teeth and retractable claws make me the perfect predator.  And I’m a Tom through and though.  Just ask the ladies next door.  But what do people call me?  Fluffy.  Fluffy…you have got to be kidding.  Me Fluffy…  Well I do have thick fur but have you ever heard a stud Rocwelier called Fluffy?  I didn’t think so.  He’s not a cat.  Then there is the litter box…a litter box…like only one and they keep it in the cellar.  A guy nearly has to pack a lunch when nature calls.  These people that take up space in my house, you know the tall one and the not quite so tall one...they go by…well some names or other.  It really isn’t important.  But these people have two bathrooms.  Like they can’t share or something.  And they keep their potties in real handy places.  It’s not like they have to go down the stairs and around the corner…noooo.  And you think it was a felony if I hack up a little bit of hair a couple times a day.  Like I said the fur is long and I’ve got to keep up an image for the girls.  I don’t shine by accident. No, it takes work and time too.  It also seems I can’t go anywhere.  What’s the big deal of wandering around on the kitchen counter, or checking out what the tall one has on his plate?  But what really pulls my tail is that at night they don’t even let me sleep on the not so tall one’s face.  How can a cat find a comfortable place to bed down…sheesh.  I can’t tell you how often I have been chucked to the floor. 

What does it take to please these people?  Just last summer I brought a ground squirrel into the house.  You would have thought by the screaming I had killed it or something.  All that screeching noise distracted me and my lunch got away.  I told the not so tall one that I’d get it sooner or later, but whatever she said…not that I bothered listening…it didn’t sound like she believed me. 

Then there’s the stuff they feed me. Some plus shaped hard pieces of who knows what.  Oh it’s not too bad for the first twenty-two minutes and forty seconds, but after that it goes stale.  Strange they think I’ll nibble at it all day.  Why can’t my people cook me up some fresh salmon now and then?  A couple times a week shouldn’t be any problem.  But you know how hard it is to get good help… and that tall one’s no help at all.

Like I said it is not easy being a cat, and all this talking has worn me out.  I’ll just lie down a while in that sunny spot at the top of the stairs, so don’t bother me….

 

(543 Words)  12-9-2016