Rants from a Cat

Life is good. I have the best seat in the house, up on the roof near the chimney. That is my crow’s nest, if you will. Except that I am not some peg leg peasant rotting in a net, but a royal surveilling her territory. The wildlife forest is so exciting to watch that it has increased my nap times to six hours. I prefer to have three of these naps on most days, although I realize that is not always doable. To seize a territory is one thing. Keeping it another. The stress of running a kingdom can get to you. On some days, it’s not a stretch to say that our TDS (total daily sleep) has dwindled to 14 hours on certain days. We all must make sacrifices.

You know the saying ‘as cool as a cat?’ For once, you are right about something. Cool people like to call it mojo, cred, whatever. We are cats. We don’t need an adjective to describe us. A noun will suffice: queen.

That said, every cat can also lose her cool. In a territorial dispute this morning, I had a little argument with Rudy, our residential rat near the guesthouse. I argued loud and short about where his hole was and where he could make his rounds. These never include the main house, and he knew that.

What gives you the right? Rudy hissed at me. You’ve been here for a couple of months. We’ve been here all our lives.

The main house is mine, I said. That includes roof, house, and basement. Crossing through here is not permitted. Not even for a toll. We all agreed on that here. Including the birds, mice, and snakes.

That was your agreement, Rudy protested. There never was a vote.

Democracy is overrated, I told him. I think we can do away with the vote and put me in charge right now. Sound fair?

There are more of us, Rudy threatened me. More than you can kill.

Don’t bring them here, I purred. Nobody has to die.

Go back where you came from, he finally shrieked.

Not cool, I thought. I gave him a swat that sent him into the wall. Game over, rodent. The ninja turtles must find a new Splinter.

A robin in the tree wept when she saw what had happened to Rudy. He was a good rat, she cried. A good neighbor. Get out of here.

I’m sorry, I said. I overreacted. I don’t mean to do these things. Rudy will wake up. It’s just a little sprain. Or a fracture of the neck.

Oh, who am I kidding here? Why am I apologizing? I am a cat. I run the show. Rudy was a rat. I don’t need to justify my actions to you people, let alone a robin, a notorious worm eater. That rat smelled like a sewer. Taking him out was a public service. Wish I could only get more respect from you people.

I sense there is an alliance forming outside. Although I am not fluent in bird language, they love to mock me now. These birds are small game to me. I remember those crows in Dar es Salaam. Now those guys were born talking (and, yuck, eating) trash. These birds are not as brave as the crows, but they stick together.

With the circular driveway now firmly in my paws, it’s time to for a new day of land grab. Next stop, the mailbox.