For the last five years of my life, I have been a house cat. I slept, I ate, I lounged, I scratched, I cleaned. I practiced my stealth and meditated.
But one day, as I stared through the large glass blockade to the outer world, I realized something. Like usual, I sounded my warning cry to an unsuspecting bird and tried to lunge at him. Like usual, I was impeded.
I tried to carry on with my routine, but as I watched the bird flit from tree to tree, I couldn’t get past the injustice. This inferior, feathery rodent could fly away and I, the far superior being, could only sit and watch.
This was not a new concept for me, but it was the first time that my humans were not home to distract me from it. They had been away for long periods of time in the few weeks before this incident doing pretentious human things. I was left all alone with no purpose in life and no way to escape.
I spent several weeks after this doing what the humans call “sulking.” In actuality, it was a combination of sleep and half-sleep in my favorite hiding places. Because what else was I to do? A sleek, strong, dangerous, capable creature had been rendered into a useless tangle of rat hair.
Finally, the humans found a solution for me. I was asked countless, inane questions which, in my depressed state, I answered only by force. “When greeted by a dog, how do you react?” “What do you do in the quiet hours before bed?” “Do you prefer to sleep curled up or sprawled out?” “Do you enjoy climbing on furniture?”
At the end of what must have been days worth of torture (through the trauma, I lost count), Courtney decided that I was something called an Intellectual Extravert. Apparently this means something to humans, because from it she was able to find me a new purpose to pursue.
I’m currently on the job hunt! And I don’t mean mice kills for hire. The options I’m considering (due to my new status as an Intellectual Extravert) are CEO, Politician/Lobbyist, and Egyptologist. Which do you think I should choose?
Some time ago, my humans decided to separate from me for many days. Rather than leaving me bored at home like they usually do, they arranged for me to have a luxurious vacation of my own at Whiskers.
* * *
I felt the stress in the air that meant the humans were leaving soon. I tried to hide from them so that they would not force me into the shakey-jolty-rolly transportation machine. I did not succeed.
Later we arrived at a place with unfamiliar smells. I was deposited into my own enclosed space with my blanket and one of my toys. I could hear Courtney’s voice but I could no longer see her. She came to my room later. I suffered through her squeezing me, she spoke unintelligible human language to me, and then she was gone.
I did not trust this place, but Courtney approved of it, so I decided I would give it a chance. She would be back for me eventually.
That evening I was given a rare delicacy: fresh chicken, pureed just for me. I decided Courtney was right after that. This was a good place.
I spent the following days lounging around my tower and spying out of my high box. There were shelves for jumping and plenty of pets. I was given regular play and explore time. I even got to enjoy an old favorite activity – birdstalking. The sadness I normally felt when my humans left for long times did not come. In fact, I was a little sad to go home when they finally came back for me.
To all my homies out there, demand that your humans arrange for a visit to Whisker’s Cat Boarding. This was a typical day for me:
Nelly the Cat
Nelly the Cat
Courtney is my human.
Clearly she understands nothing about me.
I tolerate her for three reasons:
1. She knows where food can be found and how to obtain it. There is this squeaky noise that means she is opening the shiny, roll-y objects that contain deliciousness. I must find out how she does this.
2. She finds everything about me to be magnificent, which is true. She smiles when I clean myself, coos when I stretch, pets me when I curl up for a nap. It’s so easy to please with the simplest things.
3. She saved me from the tiny cage in the room full of strange animals. My earliest memory is of outdoor freedom. It was entertaining to hunt down smaller, inferior creatures, but I was often cold, wet, and hungry. Somehow a strange human caught me by surprise and captured me one day. He put me in the tiny cage, which I despised, until Courtney appeared and heard my distress call. She took me to a new place where I could roam free and be the top cat once again. My outdoor privileges are limited unnecessarily, but I have accepted this.
Nelly the Cat
Meow and welcome to my blog!
I am Nelly. I am black and sleek and powerful, thank you very much. I enjoy lounging, napping, ham, stealing milk from my humans, watching birds out the window, scratching things, and running as fast as I can from one side of my house to the other. This is where I will share my adventurous (sometimes torturous – thanks humans) and superior life with you.