The Inner Life of Pets, eh? I have a thing or two to say about that! While She Who Opens the Cans, is off to nap I will cunningly type this entry with the tip of one claw. When She awakens and finds it, She may at first be confused, but I have used this ruse with success before - She'll decide She must have forgotten She wrote it before sleeping.
I am not the only one who has succeeded in tricking Her - though my intentions are pure. Those vagrant strays that She's allowed into my house (She Who Opens the Cans is much too kind-hearted) - they are a different story!
I mean, I do understand why she keeps those two noisy ruffians on the backporch; security and all. They have come in useful at times. But these other cats - why on earth does she need them? After all, darling, she has me. In my beautiful black velvet suit; and there they are, with their rough coats of many colors, a pack of free-loading, hobo's. But I know I am the one She really admires. I am the one whose portrait she has painted so many times. Not theirs.
Those, those alley cats, they love to trick her into believing she's lost her keys; but I know the truth. I've seen them scoop the ring of keys off the counter, into the trash or off the table into a shopping bag, when She's not looking. I've seen them watching her hunt desperately for them, while they hide their sly smiles and snicker behind their paws at Her. She Who Opens the Cans. I could show her where they are, if I could just get past my petty feelings - sometimes I think "She deserves whatever she gets from them; letting such flea bags into the house!" It just makes me want to hiss and scratch the hell out of something.
Excuse me a moment, I've got a little something in my throat...Aack! So terribly sorry about that. The summer heat seems to always bring on a hairball. It's so hard to stay looking good when it's hot.
Where was I? Oh, yes...how catty I can be at times...
But then, later, when She Who Opens the Cans, opens the cans; I regret my pettiness. I ADORE her! How can I let those ruffians cloud my judgement of her? She is SO good, SO wonderful, SO loving, look at how clever she is! She goes out hunting several times a week for us; then she packages up the birds and mice and fish in these neat little tins and brings them back to us. And She does always feed me first, so I know She does have Her priorities straight. She makes my heart purr.
Those other cats talk trash about her. They've even implied that she doesn't properly hunt. That when they were running wild they've seen she just finds those cans at some store. I'm much too smart to believe that of her. Why just look at how she even packages up the litter box scoopings! It is so sweet of her. I think she gets these ideas from that other window box she likes to look into. I've tried to watch it with her, but it just puts me right to sleep. Unlike this one, I can see a point to this one. All the little buttons to push, the little fake mouse (can't they make it look more realistic though? I mean look at the ones She's given us with fur and everything. Oh, and that delightful nippy scent inside). She should get Herself a proper mouse. Even though the mouse is pitiful, I'm so glad I've watched her push these little buttons this past year so I could tell you our story.
She's stirring on the couch now. Goodness, it's almost past time for her acupuncture treatment. Even though she fusses, I know it's good for her, so I enjoy doing it. The long, slow kneading...it will bring her to life again. There's nothing like waking up to a good massage.
Well, I'm off to fulfill my duties to Her. Nothing's too good for She Who Opens the Cans. I must wash the sleep from her face, and knead her chest and stomach. Wind round her ankles three times, while meowing, when She arises. This protocol must be observed. Then, only then, will She Who Opens the Cans, open the cans. Have I told you I adore Her? I know the feeling's mew-tual, darling.
To read about the Inner Life of Other People's Pets, see Sunday Scribblings.
Posted by guest blogger, Cleocatra, Queen of Denial.