Monday, January 19, 2009

My life as a cat

Imagine being asleep 20 hours a day. Imagine being on a constant diet of dry food so crisp that every time you take a bite, someone can hear it from across the street. Imagine being dependent on someone so much that you scream every time they leave you behind, and cry of happiness every time they come back.

Imagine not having any control over that someone’s life. Imagine being left alone for hours and hours, without a chance to even go outside the door.

Well, this is my life. This is what it’s like being a cat. I am not really “just a cat” – nobody is. I am a European short-hair, with traces of Persian and Burmese genes. My fur is black, and I have green eyes. A good combination, if you ask me. I heard that my eyes sort of glow in the dark, and that it always gets some people freaked out. But we are not here to talk about how I look. I wanted to tell you a little bit about a situation that happened to me a few weeks ago.

There I was, on the edge of the bed, taking my regular two o’clock nap, when the noise of skittering of little feet came from out of nowhere. I tilted my ears slightly forward to hear what was going on, still pretending to be asleep. It sounded like it came from under the dresser in the far right corner of the bedroom. No, wait, it was more like it was coming from the kitchen. Actually, it sounded like something going on out in the hallway and in the bathroom at the same time. I had to open my eyes, and I lifted my head slowly.

Of course, I was right! Little feet were moving around everywhere. Some running from the kitchen, through the hallway, out under the apartment door, and some running around under the dresser in the bedroom. I tried to take a closer look without being too obvious. What were they doing, and what did they want?

They hadn’t seen me yet. While I was thinking of my next move, I slowly counted them. Five under the dresser, about seven back and forth in the hallway, and didn’t I just see two of them run out in the kitchen?

Suddenly I saw one of them coming from the kitchen, dragging a big chunk of something in his mouth. He met up with a second one, who took over the chunk and ran out under the door. I suddenly realized what they were doing. They were stealing food. My food.

First I went for the creatures hiding under the dresser. Moving closer to the dresser, step by step, as close to the floor as I could, I managed to surprise two of them, and caught them between my bottom jaw and my sharp upper teeth. Three of them got away, and I rushed after them, slipping on the carpet in the hallway, and almost colliding with the three coming from the kitchen. I gave off a loud scream and I hissed at them like no cat has ever hissed before.

They all dropped the food, my food, and quickly slipped out under the door. I caught one as he was on the way out. Grabbed him by the tail, and started pulling. Really slippery little thing, and he didn’t taste good either. I spit him out before I was even half way done eating him. I completely lost my appetite, so I picked up the other ones, one by one, and carried them in my mouth to put them over by the door.

I completely forgot about the day’s adventures as I fell back asleep, this time on the couch in front of the television. Of course it wasn’t on, so I could watch anything. My friend never left it on when she left for the day. She said it would be a waste of energy. Like I didn’t understand what was going on in that show with Sabrina and her black cat. It was my favorite show. Luckily my friend made it home before it started most evenings, so we could sit down and watch it together.

All of a sudden I heard my beloved someone’s footsteps three floors down. I interrupted my dreamless sleep to go out in the hallway and acknowledge her. I sat in my usual place, just out of reach for the door, as she put the key in the lock. I heard it turn and saw her arm stretch inside to turn the hallway light on.

I saw her face, and the scared look on it as she screamed, “Aaaaaaahhh, mice!”

After she calmed down, she looked over at me and smiled. I sort of smiled back at her, and I knew that she knew. This had been the most exciting day in my life since we moved in. She picked me up and I got my regular evening hug.

“I am so proud of you,” she said, as I started purring. “But let’s get them out of here.”

2 comments:

Anne Sofie said...

I dare say your cat is a talented writer :-)

Vickan said...

Oh yes. My late cat, Cat, was an excellent writer and inspiration to us all... ;-)