Why do we Jews have less pets than our Christian neighbors? Maybe this explains it. The cat talks: “What do they expect from me? I caught three mice last week. Of course, since mama died two weeks after I was born, I didn’t know what to do with them, but I had an irresistible urge to chase them. (The two-foots call it instinct, but that’s only a word.) I did and out the open screen door they went. I was proud. But gee, I wish Mama had been around for another two weeks or so to show me what to do with them once I nabbed them!”
I didn’t tell our two-footed master that I also swatted down five flies for the week. I don’t think they even saw me in my role of defender of the territory.
And guess what? They’ve gone back to that bargain cat food. Oy! It’s horrible – taste like the cornflakes I use to lick off the counter. All grain – no meat. I bet they’re saving the fifty cents a bowl and me, a carnivore, is eating cornflakes.
Both my sister and I live with the two-footed family. We don’t ask for much and it’s clear the only way they can communicate with us is to scratch our heads. Oh boy, do I like that.
They’re nice people and aside from the cornflakes, they treat us well. But I do wish they would keep themselves a little bit cleaner. They never lick their skin and I’ve never seen one lick his hand – get it all wet, then use it to wash his face. How do they keep free from fleas? And you should hear them shout at each other – so LOUD. We gently meow, they holler, most raucously.
But they’re totally free of the fear of dogs. You gotta hand it to them. I never saw a two-foot hugging a tree limb with both hands while an angry flea-infested, dumb dog snapped at his hindquarters.
But I have seen dogs with a rope around their necks being dragged along by two-footers. Can you imagine! Being forced to walk in the path of their masters. And I’ve seen the master call their names and they come running. Humiliating. Thanks to whoever made me; (the 2 foots?) I’m a cat. You wanna talk to me – here I am, come on over.
As a species I don’t know how the two-footed clan makes it. I predict an early extinction, mainly because they don’t sleep enough. They’re rushing back and forth like their fur was on fire – never napping, especially the small ones. That’s the one thing mama showed us before she left us. She taught by example, of course. Mama would nap anytime the two-foots weren’t rushing around threatening to stomp on her.
They’re incredibly clumsy, sure to step on your tail.
Well, as long as they fill up my bowl and scratch my head I’ll put up with them.
I didn’t tell our two-footed master that I also swatted down five flies for the week. I don’t think they even saw me in my role of defender of the territory.