Spring has sprung and I thought it would be fun to escape the other day. Mom was not amused. The neighbor she’d been talking to grabbed me before I got very far. Too bad Mom didn’t have time to lure me back with a small can of tiny fish filets in gravy. She knows my weak spot.
I have taken up my post on the landing, hoping to dart out the front door when Mom least expects it, but I think she and Dad are onto me. They’ve been telling me I’m naughty. They just don’t understand how much a cat naturally longs to get out and see the wide open outdoors. Instead, I am trapped inside, sitting on my princess pillow on a kitchen chair, staring out at the birds while they feast at the feeder filled with sunflower seeds.
The chipmunk is getting fatter eating the seeds that fall below. He runs back up the berm with cheeks full no doubt. He’s just practicing to come and torment me this summer, especially when the door is open and there’s a screen between us. There I will find him, dancing on the steps down to the patio. And I’m expected to take this?
Mom keeps telling me that I’m too little to go out there by myself, that a hawk or coyote might carry me off or I could get run over by a car. I’ve put on a few ounces since last year and weigh in at over six pounds now. Just let me out there and I could take them all on. But, no, instead I must find the most comfortable spot in the house to sun myself, eat dry kibble whenever I feel like and whine to get proper snack and dinner service. It’s tough being an indoor house cat when the call of the wild beckons me, but I guess things could be worse. I'll somehow survive another summer indoors, stalking spiders and bugs, but inside this little cat lays the heart of a mountain lion.
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