That's it, enough is enough. A cat has dignity.
I know I should be grateful to Andy and Gin, grateful after my sudden promotion to Queen Cat brandishing an American visa, from lowly orphan trash-cat in the mean streets of Dar es Salaam. But this family is missing a little cat respect.
They better learn it, or they will have the stinkiest cat litter ever. But don't take my word for it. The proof is in the pudding turd I have now refused to bury. I'm going to sing a little song here. This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it stink, right there in the middle of the tray. And there is more to come. Don't test me, humans, or there will be poops in the weirdest places, places you can't even reach crawling. Ever had a full shoe of turd? it can be yours if the price is wrong and you keep locking me in at night.
I believe there is jealousy involved, plain and simple. People are cattier than we give them credit for. But the fact is, we are grounded because we can't be trusted out there. People, I am a physical wonder, can leap and run higher and faster than you ever could on eight legs. I see in the dark. Do you think I was meant to be locked in at night? That's like sending your kid to bed two hours after school starts. Cat respect. Some people have it, my people don't.
That doesn't even begin to describe other differences we have. Humans, you think you're so superior. Let me remind you, you wash yourselves with water. And then you wonder why I need to lick myself clean for an hour straight after you're landfill lips have kissed me. People, I clean myself. I have the magic lick. You have bathtubs. That's like washing yourself in your toilets or me in my cat litter. I can't begin to describe how gross that is. Born that way, I guess.
But enough talk. There will be sanctions to follow. Say bye bye to that treat you receive first thing in the morning, fresh at your door. You humans leave me no choice. Nothing says love like a shredded mouse or a decapitated bird, but no more. It seems I'm not allowed to be nice to you.
This whole situation is unworthy of a cat. At night, I can hear their taunts. From the squirrel, the owl, the rats, the raccoons. Zelda is grounded, Zelda is grounded, nya, nya-nya, nya-nya, nyaaa! I don't care for that mocking tone, I have to admit. Shhh, our little rat friend is taunting me. Or it's the squirrel. What's that? All right, that's it, squirrel. I know where you live. Three trees down, right? That maple? I can climb up that tree, too. No, I don't need a firefighter to bring me down. Our next handshake might be with all five claws, mister. It's on.
My favorite place here in the woods is on the chimney. That's my throne. Come and get me there. From here, I plot my next move. I now see that I am not the only cat in this neighborhood. Yesterday, I saw a ginormous gray tabby who looked like he ate little Bambis for breakfast. But that's okay, because I will defend my turf here. I will just have to make myself as big as possible, drop my wail an octave, and the intruder will get the picture. And if that doesn't work, that will be a five claw swipe for our friend the intruder.
I am not giving up this place. In fact, I think there is enough land for every cat here. Once we all understand that dogs - and come to think of it, people - don't share the same rights we do, we will have a fish for every pot. I must do my part in ensuring our continuing supremacy in this world.
That's why I need to run patrols at night. I'll figure it out.
I know I should be grateful to Andy and Gin, grateful after my sudden promotion to Queen Cat brandishing an American visa, from lowly orphan trash-cat in the mean streets of Dar es Salaam. But this family is missing a little cat respect.
They better learn it, or they will have the stinkiest cat litter ever. But don't take my word for it. The proof is in the pudding turd I have now refused to bury. I'm going to sing a little song here. This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it stink, right there in the middle of the tray. And there is more to come. Don't test me, humans, or there will be poops in the weirdest places, places you can't even reach crawling. Ever had a full shoe of turd? it can be yours if the price is wrong and you keep locking me in at night.
I believe there is jealousy involved, plain and simple. People are cattier than we give them credit for. But the fact is, we are grounded because we can't be trusted out there. People, I am a physical wonder, can leap and run higher and faster than you ever could on eight legs. I see in the dark. Do you think I was meant to be locked in at night? That's like sending your kid to bed two hours after school starts. Cat respect. Some people have it, my people don't.
That doesn't even begin to describe other differences we have. Humans, you think you're so superior. Let me remind you, you wash yourselves with water. And then you wonder why I need to lick myself clean for an hour straight after you're landfill lips have kissed me. People, I clean myself. I have the magic lick. You have bathtubs. That's like washing yourself in your toilets or me in my cat litter. I can't begin to describe how gross that is. Born that way, I guess.
But enough talk. There will be sanctions to follow. Say bye bye to that treat you receive first thing in the morning, fresh at your door. You humans leave me no choice. Nothing says love like a shredded mouse or a decapitated bird, but no more. It seems I'm not allowed to be nice to you.
This whole situation is unworthy of a cat. At night, I can hear their taunts. From the squirrel, the owl, the rats, the raccoons. Zelda is grounded, Zelda is grounded, nya, nya-nya, nya-nya, nyaaa! I don't care for that mocking tone, I have to admit. Shhh, our little rat friend is taunting me. Or it's the squirrel. What's that? All right, that's it, squirrel. I know where you live. Three trees down, right? That maple? I can climb up that tree, too. No, I don't need a firefighter to bring me down. Our next handshake might be with all five claws, mister. It's on.
My favorite place here in the woods is on the chimney. That's my throne. Come and get me there. From here, I plot my next move. I now see that I am not the only cat in this neighborhood. Yesterday, I saw a ginormous gray tabby who looked like he ate little Bambis for breakfast. But that's okay, because I will defend my turf here. I will just have to make myself as big as possible, drop my wail an octave, and the intruder will get the picture. And if that doesn't work, that will be a five claw swipe for our friend the intruder.
I am not giving up this place. In fact, I think there is enough land for every cat here. Once we all understand that dogs - and come to think of it, people - don't share the same rights we do, we will have a fish for every pot. I must do my part in ensuring our continuing supremacy in this world.
That's why I need to run patrols at night. I'll figure it out.
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