This post comes via Mama Kat’s weekly writer’s workshop. It is part New Year’s resolution, part ode to the cat, part lame attempt at a guest post from the cat. This is what thappens when you stay up until 1am trying to write and watch crappy horror movies at the same time.
From the Cat-
I have heard from others more learned in the ways of hominids, that this is the time of year that those lacking fur reflect on their considerable weaknesses and resolve to live their lives more fully. I have a feeling that my owner-and I use that term loosely, no one owns me afterall, there is a wild burning in my heart that cannot be tamed, I will not submit to the bonds of ownership! gah! It is my understanding that the human that has erroneously laid claim to me, is resolving to do things like really lose weight this time.
I don’t give a tinker’s darn about any of that, who in their right mind eats less during the winter months. I want her, and any who cross my path, to resolve to feed me, RIGHT NOW and in vast quantities. The dead rats, mice and birds that I’ve been leaving by the front door, are not offerings of love you nincompoop. Who walks on two legs anyway? Birds do I guess but I eat birds, I have to because I’m hungry….stupid birds. I digress, it is the hunger talking. The half-eaten things that I leave on the doorstep are not tokens of adoration. Think of them as symbols of the depths that I have to stoop to because I’m HUNGRY.
How could she not notice that I’m hungry. Does she not see me here staring right at her. Yes, I’m glaring at her, if my eyes could burn holes in the front door, the door would have a gaping hole in it and she would be a puddle. Give me a fresh juicy piece of cow, preferably still twitching, no more of this seafood medley trollop. There will be consequences.
Yours Disdainfully- Mr. Fluffy Butt
PS. While you are at it, when you deign to feed me, don’t try to pet me, I’m only purring because I’m pathetically excited to be eating my meager rations. Don’t let the young male try to pet me either, he rubs my fur in the wrong direction. If he does it again, and I am seriously considering pooping turning the mat by the front door into a restroom.