Life As My Cat

I often find myself wishing that I was my own pet...Such a comfortable and loving position to be in...

Amanda comes home, I run towards her, while making that purring sound that she likes, and she gently places her 50lb book bag on the bench as to avoid scaring me away. She then sits in the middle of the kitchen floor, just like one of us, to make it easier for me to climb into her lap and drool lovingly all over her jeans. I have nothing in the world to worry about, I depend on her to feed me, clean my litter box, spend hours upon hours petting me, the kind of devotion, love, and attention that I know she wouldn't waste on any human, and then let me fall asleep on her chest, which I know can't be very comfortable for her, but she allows it anyway. Every now and again I will scratch at the wooden railing and sit inside the kitchen sink, both of which she scolds me for, but that kind of reprimanding is always followed by oodles of compliments about how beautiful and good I am. I always reciprocate these acts of love by nudging her in the head with mine when shes sleeping, keeping her clothes warm while shes in the shower right after she is done ironing them, and not to mention placing myself directly on top of anything that she might be reading or paying the slightest bit of attention to. If only all cats were victims of such unconditional love, I know that I'm lucky, hey look, a house fly.