Living on this farm is most eventful. There is never any lack of energy or plotting going on, with the two small humans running about. I do my best to keep an eye upon them, protecting them from the unseen horde of creatures that consistantly attempt to invade the domicile, especially at night.
I find myself most often having to protect the bathroom, where rats have chewed through the lower part of the wall. I have killed several, but refuse to eat the vile things, for they taste quite bad. The humans seem most pleased by my protectiveness, as they reward me well in a bounty of toys and food whenever I destroy one of the vermin.
If only I could get to the squirrels that continuously race across the rafters in the attic. I keep staring at the ceiling attempting to feret out a means to get up there, but still to no avail.
I have trained the young human well as a beast of burden and transport. I will him to wear these heavy pullovers with a hooded pouch behind his neck. He then picks me up and puts me inside the hood and carries me about wheresoever I wish to go. It is quite economical and from this height I can see much more going on than just at ground level. Now if I could just teach him to bring me breakfast in bed too.
(Had to post this thanks to Googliebear jogging my memory)
My diet had been consistently boring, being made up of these hard dry meat flavoured compressed granules. They don't provide any real effort to stalk, kill or devour. There is no feeling of accomplishment in finding them, they are always in the same place.
I took it upon myself to enter into an adventure of grand proportions. Mine eyes alit upon the mystery that is the top of the chilling food cabinet the humans' call a refridgerator. I studied the dilemma for many days, planning my avenue of attack. I settled on the direct, ricochet course, climbing the dining chair to the table; the table to the kitchen counter; the kitchen counter to the window sill; the window sill to the cabinet top; along the cabinet top to the goal of the refridgerator.
Naturally I caused many items to topple and fall to the ground, breaking. The way I see it, they shouldn't have been placed betwixt me and my goal in the first place.
From atop the fridge I found an unopened bag full of the tantalizing scent of salt. The humans had no way of knowing that I had a distinct hankering for the stuff on this particular day, so I proceeded to claw and rend this bag container open and devoured the potatoey salt chips inside until I had gorged myself into a gluttonous stupor. It was then that I discovered my error.
I had planned well the ascension to the prize, but neglected to notice that the descent via the same route was treacherous and nigh impossible in my food intoxicated state. I was caught red pawed.
The humans were stymied when they found me atop their fridgerator later that day. I blame them totally for ignoring my yowls to be removed from the structure. The fact that they weren't home is no excuse.
I am the exotic siamese dynamo known as Mai Tai. I first encountered my humans whilst they were travelling through Florida. In my kittenhood, I was sequestered within the confines of a glass box with other felines of weened nature. The humans' child kept fawning over me, whining and mewling at its parents for quite some time until they acquiesced and rescued me from the transparent cell.
I was then shuttled into a box and endured a long ride in the heat and noise of what the human's call a van on the highway as they made their way to a place known as Ohio. I cannot say as I know much about what happened during the trip, I was fairly young and slept through the majority of it. Though the human child did keep me company throughout, I would have preferred to sleep most of the time than being handled everyother minute. But thats just me.
I could hear the loud squaks of a pair of budgies that the humans got at the same time as me. I spared them a few sideways glances of interest, making a mental note to explore the limitations of their cage at a later, less conspicuous time.