American Shorthair
Picture of Jack, a male American Shorthair

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Age: 9 Years   Sex: Male

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Sun Sign:
February 14th 2008

I've Been On Catster Since:
September 25th 2012 More than 4 years!

Rosette, Star and Special Gift History

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Meet my feline friend

My Diary

Diary of a Housecat: Day Two

September 25th 2012 2:53 pm
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I have managed, by sheer will and a natural ability to squeeze into impossible places, to survive my first night in this carnival of horrors the Woman and her accomplices call Home. When I was taken away from that insane clowder of a family (Mom, why o why didn’t you drown my retarded brothers and sisters when you had the chance?) I thought any life would be better than having to put up with their pathetic caterwauling another day. I was SO not ready for what lay before me here in this cavalcade of craziness!
No sooner had the Woman manhandled me from the big metal box to a huge brick structure (as I slid around a holey box in my own appalling piss) and closed the door to my new prison, she opened the cat carrier and plopped me in the middle of a gauntlet. There was a Man standing in the doorway leading into the rest of the place with a bowl of milk in one hand and a feathered ball on a string in the other. His teeth were bared at me, and the first thing I thought was that he was sizing me up to be some kind of entrée. Then there was the Boy, wide eyed and determined to snatch me into his deadly embrace. He wasn’t even half as tall as the Man but made up for it in pounds. He must have eaten a hundred kittens at one sitting, but I will make sure to shred him to little marshmallows if he tries.
Yet it wasn’t the Man, the Boy or the Woman, standing behind me with her hands on her hips and a similar snarl on her face as well, that caused me sheer panic. No, I think I will be able to somehow manage to elude the humans for as long as I can. Directly above me, clinging to the ceiling, was a giant BIRD with wings spinning around, a monstrosity of a bird big enough to snatch us all by the root of our fur and consume us without slowing down its incessant hovering at all. I took one look at that thing and tried hiding under one of the ancient pieces of furniture, but as small as I am I couldn’t get more than my nose under. Unable to find cover there, I darted between the Man’s legs before he could say ‘unpasteurized’ and flew into the next room . . . which had another one of those gigantic spinning birds on the ceiling! This one wobbled and made a strange warbling sound that seemed to say “There’s that cat! Eat it!” I didn’t bother to hang around to introduce myself and scampered into yet another room that smelled so heavenly with the thick scent of chicken coming out of a large, hot metal box! My infatuation was short lived, however as I spied yet another one of those mutant birds on the ceiling! I squeezed into the smallest space I could find – a gap no bigger than a slap behind the fridge – and huddled there all night while the humans sometimes tried tempting me out. I’ve since learned that the ceiling birds must be stuck up there because that is where they stay. Here is a link to a photograph of one: http://i47.tinypic.com/axmiwn.jpg


Diary of a Housecat: Day One

September 25th 2012 2:47 pm
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(Published in the online magazine the Golden Vanguard: http://www.thegoldenvanguard.ca/flash-fiction/diary-of-a-hou se-cat-day-1

Well, I am finally free of that chaos they call a caboodle! Actually, the proper name for a litter of kittens is called a kindle, but that will be the last time I associate with the word ‘proper’. My brothers and sisters did nothing but roll around on the floor all day like little buffoons, plowing over each other and creating such a ruckus that I could barely get my cat naps in. I’m not going to miss getting nuzzled off my favorite teat (third one down, left side) or having to protect my tail and whiskers from those imbeciles all day. Mama said I was going to have my very own house, which suits me just fine. Now maybe I can lay in a sunbeam without getting pounced on.
A Woman showed up unannounced yesterday – at least no one told me she was coming – and stuck her big stinky head into our box, where I was in the process of schooling my siblings in the ancient art of revenge. I was so annoyed at this that I gave the Woman my famous ‘claw of death’ right across the balustrade they call a nose. Lo and behold, wonders of wonders, this made the Woman laugh with a sound like two squirrels in a hail storm, and she lifted me out of the box and actually pulled me into her face and began kissing me, getting blood all over my perfect fur and making me smell like some kind of pesticide perfume. I tried to finish her off but she managed to dodge my assault – for now. The next thing I know, the Woman shoved me into another box – a rather nice one, by the way, with rows of little holes along each side – and it’s off to the races, or whatever they call it these days. I gave a perfunctory show of feigned protest as I was led away, but in reality I was beyond excited to get out of that chaotic, dysfunctional family. I think I will miss Mama’s teat, and the way she licked my beautiful striped coat, but it certainly will not be something I dwell on, now that I’m getting my own house and all.
The Woman jounced me around inside that box so much I pissed myself, and she had the gall to laugh at that, as if it was perfectly ok to slide around in my own piss. She took me outside (such a HUGE place!) then into some big metal box where she climbed in herself and proceeded to fiddle with a bunch of strange gadgets while I watched through one of the holes while trying to avoid the stinky puddle. Where is litter when you need it!
Finally she took me from the big gadget-laden box and ushered me into my own home. Had I known what horrors awaited me, I would have eaten my way through the puddle and died with dignity. More later. Mama!

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