Unhappy Halloween Week -- by KittyCat

Way back when, people looked up to cats (even to cats snoozing on a floormat) and treated them like gods. Now cats are treated like goods, or worse, like they’re kinda worthless goods.

Well, not all cats. A famous artist said cats are masterpieces, and there are people who really love cats. There’s even a word for them: ailurophiles. Bet Mom can’t even pronounce it. Well that’s no big deal cuz I can’t either. Besides Mom shouldn't love all cats—just me.

And she does, but it gets crazy sometimes. Like today, so warm, you’d thought it was summertime outside, and Mom decided I should come in way before supper—“don’t want you out after dark,” she said.

Mom hardly lets me play outside at night, and specially not on Halloween. Monday, though, when it was freezing and barely daylight, Mom kicked me out to go potty first thing—before breakfast. How loving is that?

No sense in being cold, starving, and miserable I thought, so decided to catch a bird. Hidden by the Jeep’s tire, I felt my body twitch as a starling landed close to the driveway. I inched forward in the tire’s shadow. Clueless about its fate, the bird was checking under leaves at the driveway’s edge. Clack, the front door opened. Swoosh, the bird flew away. I hissed at Mom.

Mom made me come inside. I saw she had filled my dish to the top, but I wasn't gonna act happy about it after what she’d just done. I got up on the plant table and looked out the window. And guess who was in my yard? Stewie!

His family left some stuff behind when they moved to an apartment. Mom heard Stewie got dumped at the pound, and felt bad for him. When she saw him Monday, she got leftover steak from the fridge, pinched off a fly-sized bite for me, and took the rest out to Stewie. Can you believe it? Steak!

In a bit, I figured by the way Mom had dressed and was hurrying around she was going somewhere. Well, the morning hadn't started good, but at least I could have the computer to myself without the scary vac monster messing up my day.

Wrong. Mom had closed the office door.

That night it was worse. She came home smelling like she’d been to the pound. I smelled dogs. Mom’s a sucker for their brown eyes begging attention. I smelled cats all around and up and down Mom’s pant legs. I was so ticked!

I’ll bet a ghost in an empty house had more fun than I did this week. The up side is Halloween’s over, Tomorrow’s a brand new month, and the month after that I’ll get lots of goodies. I may not be a god, but when I think of that red stocking full of toys and treats, I feel like one. 


(c) 2012, Bernice W. Simpson