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If Cats Could Blog…

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I don’t know if my mother is alive or dead or what happened to my brothers and sisters. One day I was suckling at her nipple and, before I realized what was happening, I was ripped away and found myself alone here with these humans.

I suffer from separation anxiety and have abandonment issues. I’m trying to work through these problems as best I can.

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I hate when they pet me but sometimes they seem so lonely and starved for affection I let them do it anyway. I fake contentment by making this purring noise. I can’t believe they buy it.

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If that neighbor kid comes over to visit one more time and starts pulling my tail again, I’m gonna fuck him up. Mark my words.

Let’s see how tough that punk is after I scratch his eyes out.

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I’ve learned how to open most doors inside the house by slipping my paw under it and jiggling real hard. Sometimes, however, it doesn’t work. I think it has something to do with knobs and locks but I haven’t quite figured it out. All I need is patience and a little more time. Soon the house will be mine!

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Sometimes I feel the need to run. God help anybody or anything that gets in my way. I’m not headed anywhere in particular, I’m just letting off steam. I’m a cat. It’s what I do. Don’t try to understand it. I don’t fully understand it myself. Learn to accept it. I have.

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They brought home a puppy. Those traitorous bastards.

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Oh the fun I’ve been having with the puppy when the humans are away! He’s slow and not too bright. At first I thought they got him to spite me but now realize they did it because, quite frankly, plastic balls with bells inside just weren’t cutting it anymore. It only took them like forever to figure that out.

Sometimes I’ll corner him in the kitchen, raise the fur on my back and make the most god-awful racket until he pees on the floor. It usually doesn’t take very long. Shame is a powerful motivator so, in most cases, he’s still cowering behind the living room couch when the humans get home. They start yelling and carrying on, all the while I sit in a nearby chair — laughing inside.

Every once in a while, if the puppy is sleeping somewhere and I hear the humans coming in the door, I’ll scamper into the kitchen and pee on the floor myself. Guess who gets blamed? Not me! I’m sitting in the litter box by that time.

I’m sure it’s humiliating enough to have your nose rubbed in your own urine, but I can’t imagine what’s going through the puppy’s head when they rub his nose in the puddle I just made.

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For a while there, it was like I was out on control. All I could think about was the female Siamese I’d sometimes see through the kitchen window as she walked by outside. Then I started spraying uncontrollably. I was so embarrassed and yet I couldn’t help myself.

The humans put me in a box, took me for a ride, then this other human in a white coat forced me to breath this funny smelling gas through a mask.

When I woke up I was at home again, feeling groggy, and damn if my balls didn’t itch. I went to lick them and was horrified to discover…

…I’m sorry. It’s just too painful to finish the story. Maybe later.

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I don’t do tricks. It’s not that I can’t be taught – because I can be. It’s just that I don’t give a shit and have better things to do with my time.

Teach the dog – he’s one of those people pleaser-types and will do most anything for a milk bone. What a whore!

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I have claws and, quite honestly, I always did think that overstuffed chair was ugly. You figure it out.

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I don’t know what those humans were doing in that room last night, because I couldn’t jiggle the door open, but they sounded like two cats in heat. Things are back to normal this morning so, whatever it was, I guess they fixed the problem.

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That puppy is yap-yap-yapping again. Nobody knows what the hell he wants. Not the humans and certainly not me.

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Goldfish are quite tasty. That’s all I’ll say about that. The humans looked so confused when they noticed the empty fishbowl. I think they suspect me but haven’t said anything yet. Maybe I’m just being paranoid?

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Early in the morning when the sunlight is streaming through the living room window, I’ll lay in the bright patch. I’ll lay on my back, legs outstretched, leaving my belly exposed.

It makes me feel all warm and tingly inside.

I only do this when everybody is still asleep. God, if they only knew!

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Sometimes one of the humans will put a leash on the puppy, and he’ll get so excited! After being tightly secured, he gets to go outside.

Once one of them tried putting a leash on me. I wasn’t having any part of it. Finally, she gave up. I don’t need a leash to get out that front door. A moment of distraction is all it will take. I’m bidding my time.

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Why am I expected to bury my shit in the litter box, when the puppy gets to go outside and dump anywhere he damn well pleases? On the front lawn, the sidewalk, or even in the neighbor’s yard – I’ve watched through the front window.

I’m not stupid. I know what’s going on here. They’re playing favorites.

That puppy will pay. Nobody will ever know.

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I’m the one who took the sponge that was by the kitchen sink. Good thing nobody looks under the bed. The humans had to get another sponge. I saw it by the sink not more than ten minutes ago. Do I dare? Or would that be pushing it?

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They think when I meow it means I’m hungry. Sometimes I do it just to mess with them. I love seeing the look on their faces when they rush to the kitchen, get out the bag of cat food, and go to fill my bowl… and guess what? It’s already full! No matter how many times I pull that one it never ceases to amuse me.

Who owns who now, motherfuckers?

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I got quite the scare today. I couldn’t catch my breath and I started choking. But that’s not the worse part. No, that followed a few seconds later when I coughed up the most awful mass of hair and who knows what else.

Is it too much to ask that you invest in a good brush and run it through my coat every once in a while, people?

I really don’t need this, you know.

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I found where they hide the box of catnip! I am so fucked up right now. I have this urge to chase my own tail but I’m trying to resist it. The puppy is looking at me funny. I think he may see his chance. Time to get on the kitchen table again, until this wears off.

Hind legs, don’t fail me now!

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That commercial is playing on TV again. I think it’s for some kind of cat food. The poor cat is singing, “meow-meow-meow-meow, meow-meow-meow-meow” over and over again, then the human announcer does some kind of voice-over.

Obviously the humans who made that commercial never figured out what the cat was really singing. He wasn’t singing the praises of cat food, that’s for sure. Let’s just say it isn’t something you’d want to repeat in front of your mother, and leave it at that.

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One of the humans is sitting at his desk. He’s filling out paperwork. I think I’ll jump right up there and sit in the middle of all the papers on his desk.

Then I’ll make my “cute face” and purr for added effect. Like what’s he gonna do?

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How dirty must I be when they feel the need to grab me by the scruff of the neck and plunge me into a bathtub full of water? And don’t get me started on the scented shampoo!

And it doesn’t help when they laugh and make comments like, “Look how small he looks when he’s wet!”

Thanks for the ego-boost, people.

I’m now hiding in a closet. I’m still damp and smell like strawberries.

I guess I’ll have to kick the litter out of the box again. How many times will we have to dance this dance before they learn?

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I don’t know what it is about a piece of string but, when one of the humans holds it just out of my reach and start whipping it around, I can’t help myself. I jump and try to catch it. I’ll do it over and over. I just can’t seem to stop.

I confess… string is my guilty pleasure.

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I’ve been sick for days. I can’t keep any food down and I ache all over. I think I may be dying.

One down, eight to go — if it comes to that.

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The preceding originally appeared on The World According to Pete

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About Pete Petrisko

  • http://www.gnomestories.com/gnomesites/Meer1.htm parker owens

    Thanks for the great laugh! I have a cat character in a series of books I am writing, but she is not very funny. She constantly repeats passages from Sun Tzu’s Art of War. Quite a little paranoid obsessive terrorist!

  • http://paperfrigate.blogspot.com DrPat

    it isn’t something you’d want to repeat in front of your mother…

    Wonderful! Thanks so much for this!

    Coincidentally, “Pete” is also the name of my favorite science-fictional cat.

  • http://www.kalyr.com/weblog Tim Hall

    If a cat really blogged, it would read something like

    21/04/05
    sdcsdl ssdl p;fhokmdkmpoas mks,ma ,m,m,masaosdl,asof,h[;fs

    22/04/05
    esdfjhltj yuhtgdsl;.tyj yuijjiiiii iiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiii

    23/04/05
    agvsvcvcvgcvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvvvvvvv eweffffffff fffffffffffffffilkpl kkkkkkkkkkkk kkkkkkkk

    I once had a cat that played the piano. He used to walk up and down the keyboard.

  • sydney

    If cat’s could type, I think they’d tell us all about the need for a little relaxation.