Dear Friends,
It’s difficult being a cat, let alone a cat-god like myself. It’s difficult to communicate your wants and needs with humans since our tongue is far superior to the human tongue, which is so simple that it took me less than a year to master. I had to learn the ins and outs of human sentence structure to realize that humans are incapable of even thinking like a cat. For this reason, we should pity humans and not damn them as often as we do.
That being said, humans do not take my cat-godliness seriously, which often results in a much-needed smiting. When it is clear that you want whatever food the humans are currently handling and they still do not give it to you, even after verbally announcing and physically prodding that you want it, by all means smite your humans. This could mean anything from a casual nip, a swipe with the paw, or a superfluous “brown present” in the hallway. I am not a patient cat. I do not have time to sit around and wait for my humans to “get it.” If my intentions are obvious, I tend to be a bit less sympathetic to their tiny brains.
Case in point, last night my dad brought home several delicious-smelling pieces of chicken from wherever humans get their food. They smell glorious, friends — absolutely amazing. Immediately after I caught the first whiff of such an aroma I patiently waited for dad to offer me a piece:
But did he? No! Apparently, humans are so insipid they cannot take the hint when I’m being courteous. I could see that this would take more than just sitting beside the table. I would have to take action:
Nothing! Not even a tiny strip of succulent meat! I ignored that awful round dish known as pizza. I love pizza, but this was my mom’s disgusting vegetarian concoction. (Another reason why I think humans are stupid — why on Bast’s great Earth would any creature choose vegetables to live on?) Even after loudly announcing my intent on receiving the chicken, I still could not get my dad to relent and give me any. Though it disappointed me to admit this to myself, I would need some help — help in the form of cute.
My sister, Piper. Oh, look — can’t you see the wheels turning in that fat little head of hers? Unlike me, she possesses no superior intellect over human beings. However, mom and dad have labeled her “cute,” and “cute” is something I can work with. Not that I don’t have an exorbitant amount of attractiveness, I would rather be intimidating than cute any day. Piper on the other hand will never amount to anything other than cute. I would have recruited Phoebe, but she refuses to be anything other than sweet and polite to mom and dad. At least Piper knows how to be bold, albeit daft.
“Sister-cat,” I said. “Go up there and convince dad to give me — er, us — that chicken.”
“LULZ K BRB” she babbled, and waddled right up to the table. I sat on the other side of the room, casually glancing at her progress but remaining inconspicuous at the same time. To my horror, this is what she did:
“No, you insufferable moron!” I exclaimed. “Not the napkin! The chicken! The chicken!”
“I CAN HAZ NAPKIN?”
“No! Not napkin! Chicken! Chicken!”
“O SRY BAI.” And then she waltzed off. I was incensed. Apparently, if I wanted anything done around here I would have to do it myself. I decided to give it another try:
NOTHING. I could not get ANY CHICKEN from dad. He said, “Sorry, dude. It’s too spicy. It’ll burn your tongue and nostrils.” Of course, that’s up for ME to decide, not HIM. But since there was little else I could do, I sank to the floor in defeat:
Sigh.
Defeated Temporarily,
Thor, god of cats.