That Other Cat

Yeh, well, I need to come clean here.  I keep mentioning the yellow thing that lives here, too.  Truthfully, and as much as I hate to admit this, he is a cat. (That was painful to admit.)  Unlike me, he does not appear to have too much intelligence. Me?  I'm calculating, cunning, and very clever.  So, let me tell you about the day my life got worse, the day this other cat came to stay.  My family went out in that big thing on four wheels that they have.  (Whatever it is, it sure is fun to climb whenever I can sneak in the room where they keep it. The mom gets mad at me and complains about paw prints on the windshield. Whatever.)  As much as they annoy me, I'm always kind of sad when my people one to tell me how pretty I am, to pet me, or to feed me.  Then, that loud roaring sound occurred, the sound that lets me know that big thing on four wheels is coming into the room it goes in, and my people came through the door into my house.  The mom was holding my cage...that dreaded thing she uses whenever I need a shot.  She said, "Oh Snickers, we have a surprise for you."  A surprise? For me?  Naturally, I was curious and started to guess as to what wonderful surprise she could have.  Was it a new mouse?  Catnip?  A big long feather on the end of a stick? Nope...none of the above.  Lo and behold, she opens up MY cage, and out steps a little ball of orange-yellow fur.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME? What kind of surprise was that?  A surprise is a good thing, not a ball of fur!  Then, the ball of fur began to "mew" and started checking out every little nook and cranny of MY home.  UNBELIEVABLE.  I glared at the family that I thought loved me...because obviously they didn't love me.  Then, I hissed and ran away to a private spot where I could just sulk and calculate my next move.

Surely this little fuzzball wasn't here to stay, right?  This was just a joke, right?  Yes, that must be it...a joke...because surely my people weren't that mean, that stupid.  I hid from everyone for a few days...coming out only to eat, drink, and visit my litter box.  Okay, and on occasion I would hiss, growl, and glare at that fuzzball.  Didn't seem to bother him:  he just laid down in front of me, looked up at me with big eyes, and seemed to be pleading to be friends. Friends? Are you kidding me?  I am a ferocious beast; I don't need friends...especially cute little fuzzball friends.

Well, after several days, the fuzzball had happily made himself at home. UNBELIEVABLE. I decided to take every chance I could get to let him know who was boss.  When he curled up all cute on the sofa, I'd go over and hiss at him. The mom would scold me and tell me I was a bully.  A bully?  I think not...the orange fuzz ball was the bully...coming to steal my family and my house away.

So, here I am about a year later.  Guess what?  The orange fuzzball is STILL here.  He never went away. He's also not as little anymore.  Unfortunately, he's actually bigger than me.  UNBELIEVABLE.  Oh, and he has a name...even though I don't like to acknowledge that.  His name is Butterscotch:  the bane of my existence.