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?