This is the season when humans get all political. Politics are the way humans make important decisions and determine who’s the boss. Apparently it involves voting. One person gets one vote. Our house runs by politics, too, but we have a one-cat-one-vote system: I’m the cat, I get the vote. I voted myself boss.
Mommy and Daddy seem to agree with this system, and once we settled it, we were done. But, apparently, humans have to make that decision every year, and sometimes twice. I figure that because everyone is talking about politics, I should dedicate at least one column to the topic so that the entire world can do like we do in my house: Whatever I want.
First, I don’t like politicians — I like people who feed me and give me scritchies. No politician has ever done that. If I had to select a politician anyway, I would select myself, so I recommend everyone vote Mina this year in all elections.
Some people insist on voting for the politicians who are actually on the ballot. I don’t know what a ballot is, but apparently it involves paper and writing and guys named Chad. I don’t know anything about those things, but I know I’m where I am because I have soft orange fur. So, if you’re looking for a politician to vote for and you don’t want to write in "Mina," I recommend voting for a ginger, preferably the one with the softest fur, which would be me.
You can write me in. My name is Mina.
Daddy insists that if I want to run for office I need to have positions on issues. My favorite position is face-first in a bowl of gravy, followed by curled up for a nap. So those would be my positions. The issues I prefer are armrests, Mommy’s pillow (because it smells like Mommy and that makes me happy), my futon, my ottoman, and my chair. As a result, I am pro-armrest, pro-Mommy-pillow, pro-futon, pro-ottoman, and pro-chair.
Anyone who is against those things is clearly a terrible person, and they don’t deserve your vote. They probably hate freedom and are in league with terrorists. I don’t know what terrorists are, but Daddy assures me they’re bad.
But I also have values, because values are important for leaders. I value scritchies. I value gravy. I also value my humans, though you can’t tell them that. They work very hard to make me happy. I believe that every kitty should have humans like mine, and if elected your leader, I will consider doing something to make sure that happens. That something may end up being "suck down a face-full of gravy and demand attention from Daddy," but I promise that while Daddy is scritching me, I’ll think about all the cats out there and how they should have it this good, and if that doesn’t prove my loyalty to the people, and by people, I mean cats.
I think this is the perfect time for me to present myself as a political figure, because I am disenfranchised. When I lived in Chicago, I voted at least once every election, and sometimes more. But now that I’m in California, people tell me that cats can’t vote, and even if they did, they’d have to be eighteen. I say "HSSSSST!" to that. In cat years, I’m well over eighteen, and if there’s some silly rule about my age, I’m willing to only vote once per election. But still, I can’t even register. I think it’s time that California abandon these speciesist policies.
It is time that we truly honor the American dream, that every cat can begin her adult life in a shelter, and, one day rise to become the most powerful kitty in America. When I rule, there will be gravy in every bowl, and scritchies on every neck. Or, at least I’ll think about that when I’m getting scritchies and eating special dinner. Which is all that any cat is likely to do.
Need more Mina? Of course you do. Browse the Mina archives for some high-grade feline contempt.