Tuesday, September 20, 2011

The Green Stuff

I was handsome.  Even with my portly size and mismatched skin, I was handsome.  And maybe I was a bit on the furry side, dark puffs rising out of all parts of my body - okay, maybe I was very furry, but I was still handsome.  And I'll tell you, I know how to strut my stuff to get whatever I want.

That was the greatest thing about me, the fact that I could be portly and a little round in the middle and still get all the access that I wanted to human contact.  Maybe I was a little forceful in situations, jamming my face into someone else's or maybe just poking them a whole bunch in the stomach.  But that's what all people wanted, right?  So yes, I was fine, me and my handsome self.  We could strut our stuff around the kitchen, the living room, the dining room like it was no body's business.  I would sit on the counters, the tables, the couches, even the arm rests, I didn't care.  I was too handsome to care.  And when it came down to it, my voice was like angels kissing the air, so really, I never had to worry about getting in trouble.  So maybe my life was easy, but then I discovered grass.

Grass, sweet, delectable grass.  No one understands what it does to me, how it makes me feel.  So full, euphoric almost - that maybe for just that minute, it is me.  Me and my grass sitting out back, lazing around on another day.  I didn't understand why anyone would get upset over a little obsession with grass.  I was so angry when I was boarded up inside, kept away from this delicious substance.  Why was it such a big deal for me to go outside, to inhale the sweet smelling air of freedom and feed my indulgences with a little green stuff.  Right?

But my mentality stayed the same.  I had to find a way out, some way, when no one was watching.  And I did, then they boarded those exits up to.  But it was always the same outcome, which is why I wondered why it mattered to them so much.  I went outside and was stunned - how big the world was.  The ceiling melded into the distance, there were actual, living creatures in the world besides myself.  There were endless possibilities, but all I wanted was some grass.  Being chased by them, I only ran to get to the next patch, the next location to sit down and enjoy my greens in peace, before being boarded back up inside.  Thing was, I never wanted to escape, really.  I would always come back to the door and sit, crying until someone found me.  It wasn't a big deal because I never went very far.  So why did they keep boarding up all the windows?  Stronger screens that my claws couldn't tear, annoying feet blocking my exits when the doors were open.

It was a tough life, being a portly house cat addicted to grass.


Inspired by and dedicated to the fat cat, Mogwai.

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