One slightly rainy evening, I was separated from my mother and my two siblings. I must have been about a month and a half old. That sounds like that is the beginning of a horrible story of a poor cat who got separated from family and faced to live a treacherous life. But for cats, thats alright. There is no such thing as a family and friends in our worlds. We are born. We live to eat and eat to live - which ever comes our way. We hump like dogs. Like animals. Its our cycle of life.
I was placed in a card board box and was brought to what I have started calling home now. I lead a fairly luxurious life. I get fed almost regularly, mostly dried cat food which I love profusely. I have a room for myself with large windows. I love it because I have enough space on the edge of the window where I can sit and look out of the window. There is so much happening outside but that hardly impacts me. Its a nice life us home cats get to live.
I was given a sand box for the first couple of days. Those were the days I was getting adjusted to the new environment and new food habits. Obviously, I had some bowel issues and finally on my third evening there, I took the biggest dump of my life. Stinked big time. The very next day I got a proper cat litter. I am beginning to believe that action speaks louder than words. It would help if they let the bathroom door opened.
"They" are mad people. I live with this guy and girl who brought me to this place that rainy evening. The guy is alright. He seems pretty useless. He sits in front of the computer or TV most of the time doing random stuff. He does not seem to have much of a job. He gets to do most of the kitchen jobs. I think he is a sad looser. But he is alright. He feeds me well when he feeds me. Clears up all the mess I create. If he is my assigned care taker, I should fight for a better one.
That girl is a little crazy. From the time I got here, she has used a hundred names to call me. I think she is going through an identity crisis. She talks to all the plants in the house too. Giving them names. She however loves to flaunt me around. I love attention. She usually has people over who just want to come to meet me. It pisses me off though that she calls me by a different name every time. It is what is confusing. Am not always sure is she is calling me or some plant or ant in the house.
I have a donkey to play with. He has grown to be my best friend so far. He is pretty dumb and seems to be physically handicapped or something. He expects me carry him around everywhere I go. I usually oblige only because he is my best friend. He hardly talks too. I think he cant really speak. Poor donkey.
To be continued...