A Purrfect Life

I stretch as much as the confines of this small cardboard box will allow me, then stand upright and survey my surroundings. The sunlight streams through the light blue curtains, warming the chair upon which my box rests. Yet there's a chill in the air, a reminder that the seasons are changing. I'm thankful once more for finding such a great home. I stretch again, arching my back in the air as my muscles protest. I'm not as young as I used to be, but chasing the fish on the string last night was fun. It amused the boy, and it amuses me to amuse my family, even if I'm stiff the next day. For the entertainment I provide, great compensation awaits.

Speaking of compensation, where's my breakfast? The kitchen is unusually quiet for this hour, and only a few crumbs remain from the night before. I'm too good for crumbs. I hear noise coming from the boy's room; perhaps he is awake. The light is out but that computer of his is on. I push his door open and it closes. A harder shove swings it wide enough for me to leap into the room, up on to his chair. What is he watching? It looks absolutely dreadful. Are those glasses supposed to convince me that she's a brilliant archaeologist? She is a pretty one, monotone aside. She can scratch my chin any day, but I can't let that distract me now. I'm a cat on a mission.

Is he even awake? I leap from the chair to the bed, where a twisted figure lies immobile in a sea of wrinkled sheets. I think one eye is open, struggling to stay with the movie and losing. I meow my whisper of a meow, and a callused mitt rubs my back a few times before falling still once more. I walk over him and he just shifts. This isn't working. I return to his chair, looking over my shoulder. His attention is on the blonde in the movie. Humans. I deftly climb on to his desk, walking on his keyboard and past the monitor. He mutters something, but doesn't budge. OK, I'm going to have to climb. I hope that top shelf can hold me...

Hey, he's up! And carrying me back to the kitchen. Now comes the reward for my ingenuity. Wait, he's shuffling back down the hall. I stand and stretch my claws on the pantry door, calling to him. “What? Do you want food?” asks Captain Perceptive. He returns, and puts some crunchies in my bowl, scratching behind my ears before going back to finish his terrible, terrible movie. Why is he even home? Isn't this a Monday? I hardly saw him for two days, so I can't really complain. Later I'll get more food from the two old people, and probably more petting. Maybe the old man will bring something home in box. I love boxes! It's an unwritten rule that all boxes coming in to the house become mine as soon as their contents have been removed.

The old lady is here! I thought she went out with the old man! I'm so happy to see her! I roll around at her feet and tug at her bathrobe. She doesn't seem well. She's complaining of a sharp pain in her right side and a slight fever. The boy insists on taking her to see a doctor but she's stubborn. Instead she sends him to the bank for her, and has him feed me and my brother. More food is always good. The lady is putting that thing around her arm that beeps, and again the boy is telling her to just go to a doctor. She insists she's feeling better and goes back to sleep. I squeeze past the closing door, and enjoy a nice nap in the big bedroom, much to the dismay of my larger coward of an adopted brother.

What time is it? The old man is back now, bringing in spaghetti on a tray. After such a long nap, I should torment my brother. And now the old man is carrying me out of the room. What did I do? At least the lady's stomach ache seems to be going away, and hopefully wasn't anything serious. I'll hang around the kitchen and wait for some saucy dishes to clean, then I think I'll retire to the boy's room for the evening.



It's a tough world out there. When I see the things the rest of my family has to deal with, I'm thankful that I have such a purrfect life. It's good to be me.