Sometimes I wonder how humans came to rule the earth. They are barely able to survive without all kinds of mechanical and technological crutches. They are unable to see, hear, smell or taste as well as the ordinary house canine, besides being completely helpless in the dark, unlike most animals. And they are amazingly stupid when it comes to interacting with us much smarter and more capable shining examples of the best the mammal kingdom has to offer – of course I’m talking about cats, notably yours truly.
Take my Grandma – please! No, I’m just kidding about that because I couldn’t do without those cans of yummy cat food that keep coming my way (by the way, she is my “grandma” because when her daughter was smaller and I entered their lives, the little one claimed me as her “son” – see? odddddd people). But her behavior baffles me, and lately I fear for her sanity. She has decided that she is “training me” to speak, I suppose in the hopes of getting a video of me to go viral on You-Tube and make her and Grandpa rich. Fat chance! All I have to do is emit the usual beautiful and harmonious “me-ow” and she thinks that I am saying “Grandma.” Actually, she has convinced herself that any sound that comes from my voice box is “Grandma,” no matter what kind of complex message I am really trying to send. I might be telling my grandparents that I have just deposited a treasure in the litter box, and she thinks I’m calling out to her. Or I may be saying that my food bowl is getting dangerously close to empty, ditto.
Another problem I have noticed with Grandma is the whole bedtime scene. She calls me in at night to lie on the corner of the bed, and of course I snuggle up as close to her torso as possible, all the while purring loudly and saying “Grandma” (wink wink). The problem is that she thinks I am doing this out of love and affection and that she is the only one in the world I would spoon with. But now that the weather is (finally) getting a bit warmer, I often prefer to sleep out on the dinette cushion where I am close to my food source and have a lovely seat cushion to shred while sharpening my claws. So now I have to deal with her whining at me and thinking I don’t love her anymore, all because I don’t need her heat anymore.
So I can only hope that as conditions outdoors improve and she can get some fresh air and exercise, she will forget some of these silly notions. After all, she and Grandpa have it bad enough with all of their human handicaps. They don’t need these illusions and mistaken ideas about me to make their life even more insecure and precarious. And I don’t need them to put me on the Internet – I just need my food provided on a regular basis, and someone to listen to me at all times, even if they think I’m saying “Grandma.”
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