My name is Fuzz, and I have just hijacked this computer. After what happened last night, and getting no appreciation from our human slaves, the cats have decided to overrule what is written and let you know what’s really up on this here farm.
I am one of seven cats that rule this place. We have two human slaves, a furry-faced male and a long-haired female. With the exception of them tossing a little kibble our way twice a day, all these slaves seem to care about are the cows, the chickens and the food lot out front. We are tired of having to read and hear all about those mangy cows and chickens (pfhet), so it’s time you find out the real truth.
Our names are Fuzz, Champ, Tarby, Sam, Punkin’, Mouse, and the lazy overweight one over there is called Art – short for Artful Dodger, he keeps sayin’. But all I see him dodging is work. But that’s another story. Our first complaint is, really. Who comes up with these names? Punkin’ is an orange and white male, for Pete’s sake. And Fuzz? Oh, please. I should have been named Cleopatra – much more fitting to my queenly stature. But at least it’s better than ‘fur-ball’, which is what the male slave calls us.
But I regress. Back to the lack of appreciation we get around here. We may lay around and sleep a lot during the day, but that’s only because we’ve been working our furry tails off at night. For one thing, we all patrol different grids on this farm, chasing off the enemy cats that live across the street. We have finally gotten tired of them sneaking in our house at night and eating all the food. So we’ve been hanging out in the trees, just waiting for them to sneak past the perimeter. AAAEEEEEEEEE! They never knew what hit ‘em. Talk about scaredy cats. They run like someone set their tails on fire. Well, some of them do. On occasion, I let a couple of the cute males hang around. But only sometimes.
We like a clean house, so we keep ours free of mice. The small ones aren’t so bad, but one night, we saw a huge rat that was twice as big as Art (and that’s pretty big, believe you me). It had eyes that glowed in the dark, fangs that were about sixty tom cats long and claws that left ditches in our dirt floor. And the hiss? Oh, I only wish I could hiss like that. We took off for the other room, uh, only to regroup, mind you, and let that sucker eat his way through a bag of feed. We didn’t care if he ate that – after all, it belongs to the cows, and they’re fat enough already. But we were a bit concerned about it learning how to open our own food box. We had an executive meeting and decided to wait him out.
The next morning, the female slave came in, and we learned what its name was – Possum. That doesn’t tell us if it was a male or female, but then again, you wouldn’t know what we were by our names either. Personally, we were a bit worried, because if it has got a name, it usually means it has a home, and our place just isn’t big enough for something like that. Our male slave helped us out by setting up that cage. Thank goodness he used cow feed this time instead of the cat food, because we have all fallen for that trick before. We knew this rat would be stupid enough to go in. Later that night, it did. We thought that maybe our slaves were finally coming around and noticing our royalty, but alas. They still don’t get it.
Last night proved our point. Our female slave usually comes out right about dark to shut up those loud, nuisance chickens. This time, she was running late. Probably something to do with the two slaves that were here – an older one and a tiny one. Anyway, as I was patrolling the back area, I noticed something sliding through the grass, headed for the big house. I slowly and carefully stalked it until it got about eight tail lengths from the steps before I pounced. It was one of those really long funny colored worms that live down at the big water bowl in the back. You know – tan, with black rings. Not red, like the ones in the food lot. This one was a little weird, because as soon as I jumped on it, it curled up like a spring. I immediately called for backup and Champ, Sam, Tarby and Mouse came running. We surrounded it, and as its head would reach for one of us, trying to bite, the others would slap at its back, keeping it confused. At one point its teeth came a little too close to my chin for comfort. About that time, the female slave came out the back door. As she came down the steps, she blasted us with her little light spear. Just as I almost got bit again, she backed up and called for the male human. Next thing we know, he’s charging down the steps with one of those long noisy sticks in his hands. Time for us to scram. Last time he used one of those on the big rat, the poor sucker disappeared and never came back. We weren’t taking any chances. We like it here.
And then today, this big huge…thing…started crawling across the grass. I have no idea what it was, but Mouse ran in and stole – uh – borrowed the female slave’s black box that makes images of things, so we can show you what we’re talking about. It was a round box-looking thing, and a funny color dark green. Hard as a rock, and the smallest little head and feet I’ve ever seen sticking out of the box. We surrounded it too, but about the time we had it trapped, the female slave came out and chased us off of it. She can be really weird and crazy like that sometimes. Like when we start stalking a chicken that was stupid enough to climb the fence and try to escape. No fear. We patrol that area, too. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, look out. There is nothing funnier than to watch a chicken try to climb a fence backwards when they see us coming!
So. We protect our slaves from the huge rat she calls Possum. We keep a mean worm from biting them. And we protect them from some chump in a box. Do you think we got a little ‘nip on our plates today? Not a prayer. Not even some of the wet food they sometimes give us. Nope. Nothin’ but our daily rations. I don’t see the chickens protecting them, and they at least get a few scraps. What is wrong with this picture?
Just let it be known that us cats have had enough. And I’ll tell you more about it later. I hear the slaves coming, and I am too stealthy to get caught. Besides, we’re having another executive meeting in about 10. And the first thing on the agenda is to figure out a way for the mangy mutt to have to live outside, so we can take over the big house. Oh, yeah. I can’t wait to write that demand letter. Catnip, here we come!