This is Luvems, calling all cats with an update.
Today I bring tidings from Tiger, the Cat of Many Lives. This is the account of one of his many escapades.
One night last week, Tiger disappeared to hunt. Now this was normal, completely normal. Tiger always hunts all night, every night. No one knows if he catches anything, but he certainly likes to prowl. And he always comes home in the morning for breakfast…always goes back out again…comes back for lunch…goes back out again…comes back for an early dinner…and hunts all night. That is the life of Tiger. Only this hunt was different.
You see, Tiger is the Cat of Many Lives. More than seven. In fact, I remember him telling me just the other week that he had used up his one hundred and thirty-fourth life while chasing a beaver down at the river. (Why, the nasty old thing turned around and showed his teeth at poor Tiger!)
*Editor’s note: I don’t know why the cats don’t care for beavers. Beavers are very nice animals! If the cats were pleasant to them instead of chasing them, maybe the beavers would offer them fish and chips! (Yes, that was a reference…NAME IT.)
But he always is a slippery eel, that cat. Never gets himself into much trouble. (Except for a few times, you know. Still isn’t smart enough like me to sleep in the garage all night. Tsk tsk.) Where was I? Oh yes, last week.
Well, Wednesday morning he came home limping from his expedition. Didn’t eat as much breakfast as he normally does, either. And his foot was swollen. No one noticed except me until he ventured out of the garage to lie in the sun, and then Junior saw him limping across the driveway on three legs. So the parents took him to The Place. (You know, where strangers pet you and give you shots and talk to your parents about you? I DETEST IT. WHO LIKES STRANGERS PETTING YOU?) They came back several hours later. And I overheard them saying that he was bitten by an animal (probably possum, they said, but I have my doubts…those beavers are nasty creatures, and anything that likes to swim under water is peculiar, you know…) What’s more, he has to stay in solitary isolation for a month and a half.
Now this is simply detestable, because the entire family – although they cannot come in contact with him – is making the biggest fuss over a cat since 1957. (Read about the cat that walked on the moon. Like seriously? The moon is just a big bowl of milk. Who wants to go up there just to drink some milk?)
*Editor’s Note: The above is completely fictional. I don’t even know if a cat ever walked on the moon, and for the record, the moon is made of cheese. Not milk. Cats, y’know?
They are buying him toys, and treats, and delicious canned food and…wait for it….wait for it…wait for it…
A PET PARAKEET. Really, humans? A cat goes and gets himself bitten, all against MY recommendations – and you treat him like he hunted and brought back fresh deer meat, or something. (Which is delicious with tuna sauce.) What’s more, the humans kick me out of the garage in the daytime, and I have to SLEEP OUTDOORS. Imagine that. It’s almost as bad as the apocalypse of 2016 when they repainted the garage. (SO THEY SAID. I have my doubts, of course. One can’t believe everything, especially from humans.)
All this is to say that humans are not paying enough attention to me and it’s getting harder to sneak inside. Tiger is doing fine now. Lounging by the window, playing with special toys, and eating gourmet food…It makes me sick to think of the treatment he gets while I have to sleep outside! Well, that’s humans for you.
Until later, fellow cats.