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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:


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