Car Ride

Every so often the humans think that it's fun to drag me down the stepping mountain that leads to their dwelling. It's scary. They don't trust me to do it on my own, so they grip me tightly, hold me close to their smelly bodies, and walk me down. Of course I try to find a slippery escape because I can't stand the smell and because I'm much more capable than they to make the trip down, but the grip is too tight. There is no escape from the clutches of their webbed paws. Usually, these trips down the slope end with a terrific kitty theme park ride. The humans put me in a box with cushions just big enough for the three of us to fit. Of course I know how the ride goes and so brace myself between the front window and the fuzzy 'dashboard' as it is called in the human tongue.

'Dash' and 'board?' What have they to do with each other? Is it a board that dashes, or a dash that is a board? Their language makes no sense and it sound ridiculously complicated. We cats found long ago that one language for our species was all that was needed. We can communicate anything using simple meows and articulate body language. Don't humans know that body language is at least 85% of how living things communicate? Sheesh. If they want to make life complicated, by all means, let them. They'll confuse themselves to death.

The superiority of the feline species goes without saying. We're quicker, have sharper vision, stronger noses, keener ears, and, of course, sharper intellects. Humans are great means to certain ends. Our implementation, long ago, of 'The Great Seduction' as it is called gave us the advantage that brought felinity out of its developing stage to its golden age of progress. By our mere appearance humans fall on their knees grovelling at our very paws. We have security, comfort, material things, and personal servants. As long as the Western Humans do not fall to the likes of the Eastern ones, we cats are safe here.

We can't afford to reveal our real power yet, like we did in Egypt. Oh, yes, we have tales and history that date to early times when we cats were gods. What it must have been like? But humans have lost their respect for nature, for the other animals of the earth. They deserve their servanthood. The funny thing is that they don't even realize it.

I enjoy their mobile box rides, all the while they think they're torturing me. I cling onto what I can and off we go zipping around the city. Of course, I have a front row seat. It's too bad they don't open the windows so I can catch a scent of adventure. Though occassionally adventure doesn't smell so good. They're probably worried I'll jump out because I don't know better. Pishposh. I may be strange to them, but I'm not suicidal. We cats are self-therapeutic beings always dealing with anxiety and stress on our own.

We pass the place with the golden arches frequently and stop for the best food I've ever had. Though the indigestion is murder for those within five feet of me. But today, there was no such luck. Tim talks about being on a diet, though if he would just lay off the carbonated liquid every day he'd probably de-bloat himself. Maybe Amy should try conditioning him by putting some sort of swatting mechanism on the cold safe. He'd probably still go for it anyway. He's used to pain by now -- so many screw-ups, accidents, stress.

I don't understand how he and Amy do it? They live together and sleep together and eat together. They must be going nuts by now with no privacy, no individual autonomy. I don't get it.

Finally, we arrived back at our home. I always keep my claws buried in the soft cushion, just to annoy Tim as he tries to lift me out. Occassionally I'll crawl onto his shoulder when he seems to be down on himself. If he's too down he'll forget to feed me, or worse pull my tail for kicks and giggles. Up the stepping cliff to the door -- I'm let down and go off to ponder the rest of the day.