Chapter 2

Well, things are getting worse. Burl took a rock to the ribs yesterday. Those two kids were lighting something on fire in the alley, and Burl went to see what was cooking. Turns out they were setting fire to some dry grass. Then they saw Burl and he got the rock from thirty paces. If these idiots are not afraid of Burl, then they're not afraid of any of us.

And now, they brought a dog to the yard. It's a big dog too. That really changes the landscape quite a bit.

We are debating what to do (again). Some of our gang are thinking of moving to another neighborhood. But where? Satch has wandered the world, and he says there are cats everywhere. We wouldn't exactly want twenty new cats descending on our little corner, either.

Tort is so upset she hasn't eaten in two nights. (She's pretty fat, though, so I think she'll be alright. She can't even hop most of the walls around here anymore. That's probably why she's worried; if she gets caught in the alley with these two kids, she might have a long way to run before she can find a low wall. And she probably can't outrun them anyway. If I were Tort I'd hole up in a bush and live off my flab until this thing blows over.)

I'll admit, though, I'm a little frightened too. When I leave the house, it's not the same carefree stroll it used to be. Even Satch, who is usually optimistic about things, is at a loss for what to do. We'll figure something out, I'm sure.

John (the guy I share this house with) had a difficult day today. He was outside in our yard pulling up tall grass, and in a beautiful display of human poise and balance, he fell against a cactus. Heh heh heh. It was a little funny, even though he started yelling and cursing. Didn't know he had such language in him! I felt a little bad, but at least he's alive, and it probably hurt way less than Burl's rock did. Boy, walk a mile in our paws before you start crying like a dog!

He left his writing machine on again tonight, and went to bed early. Probably the cactus prickles were too much to handle!

I ended up living with John by chance. I was walking through his yard when he happened to be outside too. He brought out some food right away, which was nice of him. Then Satch warned me that food meant he probably had other cats, which he was holding as prisoners in his house. He said I shouldn't get near John, or he might capture me and never let me out again. Especially with my looks.

But I had a feeling John wasn't like that. I'd look in his windows, and never once did I see any prisoner cats. All I saw was John walking around. Sometimes even without all those silly rags that humans like to wear, so that shows he has at least some intelligence. If he grew some fur, he'd even be decent looking.

One day John left his back door open. I could smell the scent of other cats, but it was old scent, months old at least. Satch was wrong; there were no prisoners in John's house.

But there may have been, so I was careful. I called to him from the door. He came out, looking surprised. He gave me more food. He didn't try to capture me or anything.

After a few weeks, I went inside. He'd say "Hey Cat!" and let me in. He had comfortable places to lay down after eating, and he'd always let me out when I asked. After a few weeks, he'd caress me when I slept near his writing machine.

Satch knew I had gone to the dark side when I told him my new name was Cat.

"Where did you get that name? It's not even a name, its what you are," he added.

"John," I said simply.

"Oh give me a break. Leave it to one of them to come up with a name like that. Cat?"

"I like it. It's to the point. And the best part is that his last name is Powers!" I said with quiet excitement.

Satch just gave me a look and huffed.

Just a few days later, he admitted he liked the name too, although he swore he was not going to come live with me. I told him it's just a part time comfort. I have a door, and so does John. We both come and go as we please. I let him sleep in the bed, even, and he keeps it warm enough.

I'm working on it. I think Satch can be persuaded. I can be very persuasive if I have to.

So I was looking around on this SOL website that John seems to be on a lot. Do you know that humans think that female tits are sexy? Yeah, I know, and they only have two. I have eight! I think tomorrow I'm going to ask Satch to lick them and see what happens. I'll make sure he spends equal time on each one, just like in the stories I read.

The funniest part is that I saw one story where a human female got her breasts enlarged! Yes, that's right, apparently there's an obsession among humans with having them be large. I don't know why they do such things either. Can you imagine us having big breasts? They'd be dragging all over the floor getting irritated!

Oh, and I almost forgot this bit. There was one story where one person was licking the other's butt. (I guess they call it rimming.) And it was so exciting for them to do that. So what! We do it all the time to clean ourselves.

It's really funny what turns these people on. The most ordinary of things, like imitating a kitten drinking milk, or cleaning each other up down there.

They need to come watch us for some new ideas. Try screwing on the edge of a roof while your lover is fighting off another tom who is trying to get in on the action. Or doing it in a tree and almost falling out. Now that's exciting!

So I signed up for some email, and after posting my little deal a few days ago, I checked it. Lo and behold, there were some comments! For the most part, you wanted to hear more. That's great to hear!

Then there were some obvious responses from humans, too. One was like, "You suure seam too think your beter then you're, owner John."

After taking about ten minutes to figure out what the hell was being said, I have just three comments:

Furst off awl, lurn hau two right and spel, doofis. (You're human. You invented this stupid language, and you invented this stupid machine. I'll make some mistakes. After all, my paws cover four keys. I could write like this: sdxc oilk thgy wdse nmhj, but I don't. (Thank Bast for the Auto-correct feature... ) At the very least, use a spellchecker.)

Second of all, John does not own me.

Third of all, I'M A FUCKING CAT. So yes, I am better than him. And you, too. And if you don't like it, you can suck my breasts. All eight of them.

You know what's really funny is that I was sitting by John when he was checking his email. That's not funny on it's own, I know. He gets the rare email from a fan of his writing. Actually, I've yet to see one. (Did I mention his stuff is not that great?) Sad but true.

But he does get the occasional message about increasing the size of his you-know-what. (I say you-know-what instead of penis, because he was watching a movie last week about some humans running around with wands, and they said that if you say the real name of a certain evil person, it made them more powerful and closer to returning from the dead. Or whatever. So everyone calls him you-know-who in the movie, and everyone gets real mad when someone uses his real name. So I'll do the same. As long as John sits in front of his computer writing dumb stories instead of going out and looking for mates, his you-know-what will never get powerful, and certainly won't return from the dead! The last thing I want is him stuck in the house with a... wait, how do these humans put it... oh yeah, 'raging hard-on!')

What the fuck was I saying? Oh yeah. So he got an email from a less than appreciative fan. And he said, "Cat, I think you could spell better than this idiot." And he wrote the guy as much. Somehow, I doubt he'll answer back.

What else. Someone else wrote me, wondering what name John writes under on SOL.

First of all, who gives a shit.

Second of all, his stuff isn't that great.

Third of all, this story is about me. ME ME ME. Not John, and not his electronic friend he's always trying to get to come visit. She lives in some other universe. It's probably some girl cat on the other end pretending to be human and just messing with his little brain.

He keeps saying he wants me to meet this girl, but so far she hasn't visited yet. In a few weeks, he says. Sometimes he'll pick me up and dance around the living room. Usually those are the nights where I'll leave him a nice hairball in the middle of the rug while he's sleeping. But he just cleans it up, and still dances around. The density around here can be amazing.

I'm going to laugh so hard if a cat shows up on our doorstep instead of his girl.

John must really be in pain. He just got up again to put some more cream on his back and arm. He must of spent half the daylight getting cactus spines out of him! Next time he'll be more careful, I bet. Actually, maybe he'll just leave the grass alone. That's where I nap sometimes! Instead he should pull up those weeds he has growing by the wall. I ate a red leaf from one and was sick for three days! But he puts water on those. If he's trying to kill them, he shouldn't water them! Idiot. I guess he's a little slow.

Wait. I just thought of something. Maybe it's stupid, but maybe we can get back at these two turds that are bothering us. It will take some planning though. I'll let you know how it goes. Meow...