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Rated: E · Non-fiction · Biographical · #2184026
Hungry Cat
Write a story 1000 words or less or a poem 40 lines or less about a character from the perspective of one of their pets.

Bzzzzzz…

“Oh, great!” (yawn) (strrrrretch) “Here we go again...another day.”

HE gets out of the thing HE calls “the bed” - HE never sits on it or stands on it. It’s there taking up space in the part of MY living space that HE refers to as “the bedroom.” What a waste! I could be using that prime real estate to pass through on my daily meanderings and ignore. But, NO! It’s his space...only HE rules!

I watch as his legs and feet swing out and downward and HE at last becomes erect.

I know what’s coming next: my first meal of the day! YIPPEE! It’s been HOURS since I’ve been allotted sustenance...has HE no conscience? Surely after 19 years of sharing our space together he MUST know I’m famished after a night of sleeping! (Sleeping takes energy! Don’t believe what humans say…) “Hurry up, old man! I’m hungry!”

HE moves toward the door of “the bedroom.” Progress...I’m salivating and I plant my hind feet firmly in the carpet – ready to race him to the kitchen where I’ve been relegated to eat (not my choice, by the way; I’d prefer a site with a nice view – like the window sill...but, as humans are known to mutter, “it is what it is.”)

I beat him to the kitchen and (for maximum effect) gaze longingly at my empty bowl. HE does not respond accordingly...instead he pours something into a bowl on the countertop, adds milk and a spoon (I think it’s called “a spoon” - I’m not up-to-date on various tools...I didn’t go to school).

“HEY! I’m right here, you know! I’m at your feet AND I’M HUNGRY! FEED ME!?!?!”

HE stands next to the countertop shoveling into his mouth whatever it is HE has put in the bowl...using the aforementioned spoon. HE appears to relish the experience; meanwhile I’m starving! I hear the sounds of chewing, clinking of metal against ceramic, slight slurping...and STILL I’m waiting.

“AHEM” I attempt to utter, but cat’s tongues and mouths don’t work like that. I can purr (when I want to), “meow” (when I want to), and lash out with my front paws to scratch (when I have to). BUT, when it comes to being fed first thing in the morning, I’m at the mercy of what HE has on his agenda!

And, after 19 years, despite the love HE exhibits toward me (hugs, rubs, kisses, combings, cleaning my bathroom, constant supply of water in “that” dish), HE makes me wait each morning for my before-noon fix. It drives me mad!

HE finishes, washes his stuff in the sink, puts them in the drainer, turns to me, looks downward and says, “Are you hungry?”

I want to shout, “YES I’M HUNGRY...IT’S BEEN A LONG NIGHT. YOU BET I’M HUNGRY! STOP WITH THE NONSENSE OF NOURISHING YOURSELF BEFORE ME...I THOUGHT I WAS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN YOUR LIFE!”

I then take a breath and continue (in my mind):

“WHAT WENT WRONG BETWEEN US? WE’VE BEEN TOGETHER FOR 19 YEARS, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! DID I DO SOMETHING WRONG? WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME? LOOK – WE BOTH WAKE UP IN THE MORNING, RIGHT? OBVIOUSLY YOU’RE MORE INTERESTED IN YOUR OWN WELL-BEING AND YOU SEEMINGLY TOSS ME ASIDE UNTIL AFTER YOU’VE SATISFIED YOUR OWN LUSTS. DID IT EVER OCCUR TO YOU THAT I MIGHT HAVE FEELINGS TOO?”

HE looks at me staring upwards to him and pours some crackers into my bowl.

I’m happy and crunch away.

All is well.

And, tomorrow, this will all be repeated. But after 19 years together, that’s life.

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