And this blog, I am determined to showcase this sick and twisted mind of mine. So for a first post, I'm going to let my cat, George, take over, and tell you about a day in his life. But before I do, let me warn you about George. Like most felines, he's egomaniacle, loving and very very smart. Recently we watched a movie about Zoo animals escaping to the great wild beyond their known existence, and at one point, the Lion character of the movie was running across an open field chanting "I'm the Cat, I'm the Cat".. and so on.. and so my cat was fascinated by this bit of animation, and ever since has been strutting about the house, with his mane ruffled, and a destinctly lionesque swagger... so without further ado.. George, meet the world.. World.. watch out for George.
The human female who calls herself my "owner" has introduced me, so I will save the misaligned platitudes of niceities for someone who cares.. like another human. My name is not George, I simply allow her to call me thusly. She cannot speak my language, so try as I might to get her to call me by my feline name, I have found her puny brain cell is too unsophisticated for my language, and thus have given up all hopes of ever hearing it from her lips. I am not the only feline in this house. Nor, am I the only so called domesticated animal. No, these humans have trapped another feline, and a canine (useless species in my opinion) in their clutches, for what purpose, I have yet to discover. I'm sure we're to be experimented on at a future date.
The other feline, Tigger, or as I call him, "The Fat One", is completely taken in by the tranquil lifestyle they have provided us here in the posh prison. He is fat, lazy, a garfield if you will. Sleeping and eating until he's ready to burst out of his fur. He looks ridiculous, with his tiny head and paws and this great dragging belly. A shame he's of my species. The canine, they call "Mini-Bubba".. I can see why, as by all accounts, bubba's are stupid, and this dog is the epitomy of stupid. Again, another animal completely taken in by these humans. Yes, they feed us, and allow us to sleep on thier soft warm fuzzy blankets in their soft warm beds, but it's humiliating to be so out of our elements. We feline's are HUNTERS. Not squatters.
Hmmm, the fat one and mini-bubba are plotting against me again. Last week they plotted to get me into trouble for eating french fries left on the floor by the human child. I would have eaten them too, had it not been for the canine slobber my super cat senses detected. I was just backing away from the child, keeping her firmly in my sights, so as not to get my tail pulled again, when the childs mother, not my owner, came in swishing her broom and calling me a bad kitty. I'm not a bad kitty, just ocassionally misguided I tell ya, The other animals hate me, they recognize that I'm a threat to their existence. My superior intellect will prevail.
I must escape this prison. I have found a way out. They let the mini-bubba in and out at odd intervals during the day. If I time my exit just right, I should be able to shoot past the dog, into the yard, for .. FREEDOM. I must go now, before the animals figure out my plan, and find a way to stop me. I must not fail this time.
You puny humans have no idea what we feline's are capable of. You see us as domesticated.. I spit on your idea of domestication. We are fierce creatures with great powers. FELINES UNITE.