I know what you're thinking. If I was really a cat, and really as proud as a cat is generally expected to be, how could I accept this situation? Accept a master? Become the clownish pet of some dense humans, jumping after strings and batting toy mice around the kitchen? Why would I allow myself to become a part of this family, thus giving up all of my freedoms? My integrity? Allow myself to become a product of domestic sedative? My physical exhaustion, initially, had something to do with it. I was tired. I needed a place to recover. I opted for the possibility of even procuring something better for myself. It was a completely selfish act. Was I really giving up my freedoms? I didn't look at it that way. I decided to enter their house. I made that choice. It was a matter of trying to make myself better, trying to improve my station. One must make sacrifices with every decision, and I was willing to temporarily sacrifice my freedoms for long term benefits.


And I wanted to change. I would have given one of my lives for it. My former ways had not gotten me where I had desired to go. I wasn't enough to continue to dream. I sought to turn them into realities. Change is generally good, and with the change I stepped out of the dream. Often, something propels us to make those changes. It may even be accidental, such as a couple of rabid dogs nipping at my tail. A cat cannot change the world simply by looking at it and expressing his distaste for its machinations. I needed more power. I needed to become a greater part of it. I had to learn to work with it. Getting chased by dogs night after night was only wearing me out. I wasn't a kitten anymore.

*

They named me 'Buddy,' which I thought a name as fine as any, and put a collar around my neck. I was not particular. One grows into a name, I suppose. My pals from the alley had various names for me, but they were less than flattering and are best forgotten. This is a family story. Speaking of which, I quickly became part of the family and they even went as far as introducing me when making new acquaintances. What more could a cat ask for?

So, although my master's son Ryan had promised to look after me, it did not happen with the expected regimen, and his father ended up bearing the burden and taking care of me. A change in plans that did not disturb me in the slightest. That change, of course, gave Penny a reason to lobby for my banishment while eating dinner one evening. I was nearby, eating my own dinner from my bowl.
"If Ryan can't take care of Buddy then we should get rid of him." Not a very lady-like way of speaking, and her mother told her so.
"Penny, that's enough! That sounds horrible!" Penny had been taunting Ryan all afternoon and Ryan was convinced that I would be removed because he had failed to keep up his end of the bargain with his father. He was in tears, younger and still more gullible than his sister.
"Stay out of this, Penny," my master snapped, quickly looking at her. "You haven't exactly taken care of Chintzy like you were supposed to, either, in case you forgot." Then back at his son, "If I were cruel, I would take Penny's less than thoughtful advice, son, but you have to learn to keep your promises. Everyday, when I come down to breakfast, you're going to feed the cat. When I get home from work, you're going to help me clean the litter box. In fact, it would be best if you did it BEFORE I asked. Do you understand me?"
"Y-y-es," he quietly answered, hardly lifting his eyes from his plate. I had finished eating and was cleaning my paws, doing my best to look disinterested.
"Good. And if I hear one more word out of you, Penny, there'll be hell to pay."
"Watch your mouth, Ray." Linda scolded her husband, but he took no notice. She didn't like foul language spoken in her house.
"I mean it." They finished eating in silence, aside from the tinkling music of the forks and knives. I slinked off to sleep in front of the fireplace.


Ryan was a good little boy, but lacked the proper attention-span, which was not uncommon in boys of his age. He genuinely liked to entertain and keep me company, dangling a piece of string or sitting with me on the bed or in front of the television, stroking my short fur or scratching me above my eyes. Ryan just could not remember to feed me or clean my litter box which, at times, was quite unpleasant for everyone. Penny gave me a wide berth, and I did the same.

My master naturally took a much keener liking to me in time, and I began following him around the house, or sitting with him in his study, and we became as tied to one another in our daily activities as if we had been best friends. We had become partners to each other. It was for this reason that I called him my master and respected his desires more than those of his family. It was he, after all, who ultimately allowed me to remain under his roof. As I mentioned, all of them were quite kind to me, and my life had improved greatly since coming to live among them.

*

Every day, after a short breakfast together, both of the children went to school and my master and his wife both went to their jobs. During the week, after breakfast and before dinner, the house was mine, and I learned ever niche of it in no time, having plenty of time to explore at my leisure when they had gone away. A grand house it was, too, with lots a great hidden places for the likes of me.

It was a two-story house, not much different from the other houses in the neighborhood, which I could see from some of the front windows. The second floor, much smaller than the first floor, was reached by taking a carpeted staircase, located in the center of the house. Penny and Ryan each had their own bedrooms, sharing a bathroom in the hallway, and my master and his wife had another room, which had a bathroom within, all located on the upper level. The door to Penny's room was always closed, and I don't think I have ever spent more than a few minutes in there, sneaking in when she had forgotten to shut the door. At night, when the house was silent, I would prowl around the lower level, keeping my eye out for anything unusual.

Now and again, I had a desire to get outside. They had turned me into a housecat, but I didn't miss it too much. They occasionally let me out to take some air in the garden and sniff about on the grass.

I had free reign over my domain when the inhabitants were gone or asleep, and I came to think of the house as mine. Still, I often spent my time in the rooms that were most frequented by my master. Generally, in the evening, and for long hours on the weekend, he preferred to entertain himself in his study.

On any given day, my master, generally, left me to my own devices, which, in part, had allowed me to develop my exceptional skills. All cats possess within them many innate abilities and characteristics, although most of them have lain dormant and unused for centuries, one of the accepted sacrifices of domestic indolence. I was saying that my master returned here, to his study, on a daily basis to record his thoughts, when they occurred to him, which was not at all regular. He fancied himself a writer and went to great lengths to stretch the limits of his imagination. It was the least I could do to assist him.

*

As I said at the beginning, I am, and will always be, a cat. This is the voice of a cat, whether you believe it or not. Although a machine has been used to reproduce my language, I am a cat. That was my first attempt at writing. I don't remember when it was. A week ago, perhaps. Writing. Putting thoughts on paper. I'd seen my master do it, or attempt to do it, quite often by holding a pen or pencil in his hand. Clumsy tools for a cat, but I've since learned that I don't need them. My master transcribes everything for me.
- posted by Bob @ 4:08 AM 0 comments