Hettie Cat

I am a cat, they call me Hettie. Life is pretty easy as a cat; we don’t have any of the concerns people have. I can pad through the garden and watch the birds fly, unreachable, overhead, while the people around me rush about trying to solve all of the world’s problems. They pay me a lot of attention, some of the time anyway. They play with me and ask me questions, but of course I can’t answer them because I don’t speak like they do. Sometimes I make it a point to mew in answer, or smile as only a cat can smile when they tell a joke to me.

I caught a mouse the other day and killed it. I had only started to play with it though when they took it away from me and complained about how disgusting it was. I don’t understand humans, I thought it looked tasty. They threw it in the trashcan, which has a closed lid so I can’t get in it no matter how hard I try. No matter how much I bash myself into it, it just won’t open. Perfectly good food gone to waste. It isn’t as if I go hungry, they feed me, all the while talking to me and expecting me to respond, as if them talking is more important then my food.

There are other cats in the house, little ones, most of them are grey since they are from the same litter but my favorite playmate is black all over. Sometimes I flirt with him but he doesn’t respond ever. Cold heartless cat, but so handsome I can’t help still liking him. One of his sisters is a snob and I don’t get along with her very well. She always has her tail high in the air and whenever I try to play with her she hisses at me. I tried to claw her the other day but she didn’t seem to care even about that.

I don’t always have kind feelings for the other cats, not even the handsome black. They don’t treat me like I am one of them and they get fed all of the good tasting cat food while they feed me bits of human food. When I try to eat the cat food they take it away from me and scold me. The humans have their favorites and I am not one of them, how else would you explain their strange behavior.

There is a string with a ball on the end tied to one of the doorknobs for us cats to play with. I can spend hours at it, which shows you how much free time we cats have. Well that and it’s good for practicing my hunting technique. I would argue that that ball on the string is the whole reason that I am good enough to catch a mouse. Again the humans complain at me. Do they really think that I am interested in the flashy box they keep trying to show me? I can watch the flashing box for a few minutes just because it flashes but after that I get bored.

Humans are truly odd; you would think that they would tell that cats and humans are different. Still they insist that I wear clothing like they do, that I eat the same food they do, and with the same strange tools they do to eat that food. They complain when I act like any of the other cats, as if somehow I’m different. They are always telling me I am a woman, what ever that means.