It is a hard life being a feline. I have to plan everything and think of everything. My mum said find a slave, and I found Mrs. Human who was the best on the market at the time. I gave a few interviews, but my choice was made. The others either did not have a garden, which meant territory was non-existant, or some had a dog. No self-respecting feline, that was once worshipped as a god, lives together with a dog. There are exceptions, but it is not my thing. Dogs are fine at a distance, but you really do not have to live with them.
I also discovered that there was a choice of beds at Mrs. Human’s place. I finally sealed it with a paw scratch on her arm to prove my possession, and the contract was made. I should have read the small print at the bottom. It said that as an alternative food, there would always be a supply of vitamin pellets. The word “alternative” does not exist in meow and so I was confused. I soon disovered that vitamin pellets was permanent, the bowl was always full, and now and again for a treat there would be tuna fish. The word “treat” also does not exist in meow, as treats are for dogs, and cats do not have treats, we have permanents.
However, I soon made my point clear with the establshment of a few hairballs, after eating the pellets and the word “treat” has been cancelled in the contract. Otherwise she is OK. Of course there is always room for improvement, but that keeps her on her toes, endeavouring to improve my life style daily. I am still waiting for the diamond encrusted Swarovski cat flap, but it seems that she is now busy saving the $800 for my Versace Barocco Pet Bowl and I suppose you cannot have everything,
I can now hear the sound of a tin opener and smell the scent of tuna fish in the air, so I will have to move my luxury body to my food bowl. Oh, life is so exhausting. After my meal I will collapse into one of my beds and spend a few hours dreaming of new tasks for Mrs. Human. Without me, she would lead a boring life.