Cat – os – Trophy - 2

I hate doctors. My history with them has been horrible. The two vets I have met so far have both ruined my life, each within 15 minutes of meeting me.

The first vet I went to was a very creepy man. He seemed to be lost in his own world, and I believe he was either mentally special or some one had hit him very hard on his head. As soon as he saw me, he pulled up my tail and declared to them that I was female. I was too young to realize what that meant for me but being a cat with an unsophisticated brain, I accepted what was told. This resulted in me being called "paru" for the first couple of days there after. Soon people who thought paru was a boring name came up with their own. I came to be called "mitai" "shreya" "tittu" "chitti" and their variations.

The next few days went away in shaping myself into an ideal woman. I was bought a pink basket which I could move around out of home. I was trained to keep my legs together and behave gently like how women are expected to. I was for sometime pedicured, nail polished and bathed twice every week. Something started developing between my legs but I ignored it. With time, the first vet was done away with for his stoney behavior because each time I was taken to him, he had to start all over again, starting from figuring out how old I was to looking what shots I was already given. I was more than glad that I didn't have to go there anymore because his clinic smelt of a stinky dog.

The second one turned out to be worse. The moment he saw me he confirmed that I am male. He also confirmed that what was growing between my legs were actually testicles and that I was going to hit "heat" soon. In about 3 minutes from then, I was given an injection that had a strange impact on me. I completely lost it. I could see and hear what was happening around but could not register a thing. I could not move. After what felt like a few cat days, my senses started falling in place. I could slowly move only to realize that there were stitches in the place where balls previously existed. He drugged me and cut off my balls. That basturd!

I am now stuck with the pink box, girly names and no balls.

On the positive side, I don't get to bath as often. I can be smelly and no one cares.  

Cat – os – Trophy - 1

 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...