The cycle

The sad tale of the cat v.s. the dog v.s. the child v.s. the parents. Whose to blame?

The tail end of a cat’s life

Cats get the short end of the chewing stick; literally. Dogs are given the stick, wonderful; new and shiny; straight from the plastic. They are even expected to chew it to a nub. What’s left for us to do but to bat the leftovers around?

I’m a cat. Thought you’ like to know that before you begin questioning my authority on the subject. And I’m fed up. We as a specie used to be adored and praised. We were kings of our domain: the house. And now… now we have to fight for our human’s attention because they’re too tired from the jog around the block with the slobber mongrel. Life isn’t fair. Used to be, that I could sneeze and immediately consume my owner’s attention, now this bag of drool with a furry stub on his butt can enjoy a meal of excrement on the lawn, only to be called minutes later by a human and given a rub down.

Perhaps if I decided to lower and debase myself by rolling in rabbit dung or to carry used underwear and socks in my mouth instead of vermin I’d be the best friend. But alas, I have class and think more highly of myself.

Humans nowadays clip our nails leaving us defenseless. Our plans for world domination: foiled; as we were forced to remain indoors and have yet to master the cellphone �" no thumbs to text scheduled meet ups.  Years wasted. And those pathetic humans could have been on the higher end of the totem pole, had they played along. They could have been privileged slaves. Now, they’re pooled with the rest of the creatures.

They believe they have us fooled, dazzling and confusing us with sparkling wands with bells and ribbons. I like to pretend my human’s head is on the end of that wand as I dig my clawless paws into its ornaments and chew on the feathers.

Humans beware. Our numbers are climbing and we are planning our attack. Vengeance shall be ours!

Your only method to combat this operation: Spay and neuter your cat. But remember, we’re always watching.

A dog’s response to a cat’s life

Ha! You think it’s easy to be worshiped by humans? You foolish felines. If only I had half the power your species has over the human female. Those sticks with wigs took my best pal away. He would take me on car trips daily, let me sniff anything that fell from the refrigerator; I was his vacuum cleaner each night after dinner. It was the best relationship one could ever beg for.

We’d roll in mud piles each day and fall asleep without a bath on 600 thread count cotton sheets at night; until she came around. Now it’s: wash the dog, clip his toenails, make sure he’s updated on his shots. Have you ever had your rectal glands squeezed? It’s not a pleasant experience I can tell you that much.

And if that weren’t enough torment, he purchases the two of them something called a baby. It's a rolling, crawling, walking nightmare when these things infect a household. They cling themselves to us because we’re shaggy like a blanket. My back is used as a handkerchief daily.  This thing doesn’t shut up during the nights, smells worse than anything I’ve ever eaten, and demands their constant attention with his wails. God forbid I begin to wine for a petting or a scrape of food; otherwise, I’m ushered outside and told to sleep in the doghouse for fear I’ll wake the little monster.

The worst of it occurred when that wiggly thing learned to crawl. Lord help it! It quickly found my food dish and out of spite, emptied my food all over the floor. It thinks this is a game and laughs each time it happens, pointing at me all the while. And after hearing how heavy I pant in need of a drink, it maliciously performs the same stunt with my water dish. Who can blame me if I go sniffing in the trash for food or gobble fecal content in the yard left over by a kind soul pitiful to my hungry cries?

All I can do now is sniff the baby’s diapers because they smell of last night’s meatloaf or lick at its binky to swallow the bit of milk dripping from it. I’m so craved for affection I let it crawl on me and pull my tail and ears. I close my eyes and pretend it’s just a rough display of affection.

Woe is the life of a dog that lives with a baby. If only the pound would come to take me away. I’ve heard stories of those, merciful to the plight they’ve inflicted on us, putting their dog down, or giving them away. How kind. Why couldn’t this happen to me?

Moral of this story: Babies �" if you want to torment and torture us into submission, keep us in your homes when you decide to procreate. It’s a slow painful death.

The plague: childhood

I find it odd that my furry counterparts think of me as a nuisance. Sure, I complain when the dog chews my Gameboy, or my NDS, the Wii remote, or anything else electronic. And I find it disgusting when the cat decides to vomit her bodily shavings on my bed.  But I understand. He just wants my attention. And she just wants better digestive health. I blame the parents.

They’re the ones that caused this mess of a living condition in the first place. To keep me quiet they throw me in a room with shiny things that light up making noise. It’s a wonder I know how to function and speak with other humans. I believe it’s a brainwashing mechanism devised by parents fed up with the responsibilities of parenthood: put a noisy object in front of us to drown out our verbal protests. That and the fact that my teachers don’t care or try to listen to me further proves this suspicion; they’re all adults anyway.

My skin grows pale with each lengthening day. It used to glisten like gold in the sun. I saw those photos my mom shows people during the holidays of my bare backside. What happened to me? I used to smile.

They keep me in constant boredom. And if I complain about it enough, they stuff pills down my throat to, “help me focus,” calling it something like ADD or ADHD, I can’t remember. The only aliases I have are the grandparents. My grandma bakes me cookies, and grandpa tells me about the good ole days before medication existed. Talks about how trees used to keep him company on the weekends. I’d like a tree as a friend for Christmas!

I know these two see my troubles because they’re always telling mom and dad to let me stay longer or come over more often. My parents, in a coup to keep us separated, decided it was best to move to another state. Life is staged.

The only thing to look forward to is college. There, I’ll be able to find freedom to move beyond a curfew, eat pop tarts for breakfast, or wear clothes that haven’t been washed in months. I won’t have to abide by the rules of those people that keep me caged and stuff “wholesome” food down my throat. I’ll be able to use apples for their intended purpose: target practice with a bow and arrow (something my mother currently deems: too dangerous).

Life’ll be grand one day, some day. Till then, I need stay the drone they want me to be and glue myself to flat screens, Xboxs, and iPads.

Reviews

[Sasha]

WOW...that is a very interesting story from all sides. IF we only could understand our pets. I bet we'd never hear the end of it. :D Great story, well done!

[Melissa Hoover]

lol thanks. I bet your the same thing!