This is not I, your humble housecat. It is a portrait of some poor and overfed animal whom I do not know. I, on the other hand, am robust and stout, in the best sense of both words. Mistress and the young masters have conspired to starve me. They have created a calendar on which anyone who feeds me is required to enter the time and amount of food provided. The only sympathetic ear in the entire household is the adult male, who continues to respond to my plaintive cries. He does not always record the food he gives me, which fools the others into feeding me again. It is not a reliable system for obtaining adequate nourishment, but it is the only system I have.
I have endeavored to remove the top of the receptacle in which they keep my food. I have not been successful so far, but I will continue to try.
No comments:
Post a Comment