A Day in the Life of a Cat

Gwyneth woke up with sore legs and an empty stomach. She stretched her limbs on the carpet, making sure to claw back some of the fabric off the floor. Take that, you asshole, she thought.

Scanning her territory she found a nice little spot overlooking the pool in the backyard. She trotted along, a little giddy from her rebellious act not so long ago, and laid down in front of the big screen door.

She let out a soft squeal. If only that moron would just sleep and never wake up again, she thought. Then I’d be able to spend every day just sitting here and watch the world go by.

She found a little spot on her leg that needed a little cleaning. She carefully lapped the spot up, ensuring that the hairs were well groomed and maintained. I am not letting that moron mess up my hair agai-

“Argh! Fuck!” Gwyneth meowed. The hand retracted from her head and she hissed at it. The large figure knelt down and said, “Aw, Queenie, are you feeling hungry?”

Yes I am, and fuck you for messing up my hair and what was a fantastic morning, Gwyneth hissed in her mind. If it weren’t for the fact that you had food, I would’ve left a long time ago, you dick.

She followed the figure into the bathroom where her bowls were located. The bowl rattled as her first meal was poured into place.

“That’s it?” Gwyneth exclaimed. “That’s all you’re giving me?” She let out two meows.

“You’re fat enough as is, Queenie, you should be full after this. Alright, I’m headed off to work. George will probably have time to pet you once he’s up. See you!” The big figure turned and left into the dark room beyond the corridor, as he did every morning.

Good riddance, Gwyneth thought.

She looked into her bowl and sighed in her heart. The thought of the hunger she’d feel by midday made her a little queasy. She lapped up her food in three big gulps and went to find another good spot in her territory to rest and nature-watch.

“Oh, that feels good.” Gwyneth purred.

She had had this raging itch on the top of her head all morning. That was until George had woken up and scratched it for her.

And what she liked about George was that he didn’t linger. He hated it when that moron came home and tried to scratch her for a full hour.

I’ll bite his hand off if he ever does that to me again, Gwyneth paused at the thought of the beautiful thought of her getting revenge on the big, stupid animal that for some reason just could not tell what she liked and disliked.

She loved George for his understanding, his knowledge of when she needed warmth and when she needed to be left alone. She didn’t need to be pampered twenty-four seven, and George somehow knew exactly when –

“Alright Queenie, bath time!” George beckoned from beyond the door that Gwyneth had mistakenly thought was George’s room.


I will not be dropped into that prison cell, Gwyneth thought adamantly.

George was trying to find her after she had run and hid at the sound of Bath Time. She had found this perfect spot under the sofa, a place that would require some effort by that lying, backstabbing son of a bitch to remove her.

“Queenie,” George beckoned. “I know Steve didn’t feed you enough this morning so I’ve got you some extra treats!”

Gwyneth could smell the food and hear her stomach growl at the same time. She really, really wanted the food, but just could not step into that prison cell of water ever again.

I’ll just steal the food and run away, she thought. She cautiously walked out into the open. “I’m here,” she meowed.

In an instant, her body was grasped firmly by the hands of the backstabbing son of a bitch and lifted in to the air. “Help!” Gwyneth wailed. She tried to scratch her aggressor but to no avail. She was lifted and placed into a paw-deep layer of water where she was given a fur-messing soaking-wet bath.

Gwyneth felt miserable for the rest of the afternoon.

By the time she had woken up, it was night. The nap had made her feel a little bit better, but the prison cell of water still scarred her dreams.

She had recalled the struggling, the attempts to crawl back out of those white walls, and how close she had been until the liar’s two hands firmly held her in place.

I can’t believe I trusted that pinhead, Gwyneth thought to herself.

Gwyneth laid there in front of the screen doors, looking into the lights that started to flicker as the sun went down. She didn’t really care if there were other beings out there, or whether they were nice. Caring about stupid things like that were just not something she’d –

In the corner of her eye, a black object streaked quickly across the floor.

Gwyneth got her claws ready, measured the object’s predicted trajectory and pounced. Her right paw clawed into the object and it lay dead, all eight legs facing the sky.

She took a look, thought about it for a moment, and then lapped up the remains of her hunt.

Even fate wants me fed well, she declared.

At that moment, the sound of her dinner rattling the bottom of her bowl and the aroma of a delicious snack floated toward her. She could recognize the dinner but couldn’t seem to pick out what the snack was. She walked over to her bowl to investigate.

Gwyneth gasped at the small amounts of orange-colored fish lying on the side of her bowl. “Salmon!” She cried.

As she gleefully lapped up her dinner and her delicious snack, all of her troubles and upsets during the day were instantly forgotten. The backstabbing liar and the moron were now restored as George and Steve, and she knew she was the happiest cat in the world.

That is, until she tried to ask for more.


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