My ears flicked in the direction of the sound, which came from behind a plain white door that was closed to keep me out. I adjust my paws beneath me before licking my side. It was a front really. My entire plot was to appear casual. I couldn't allow my servant to suspect me. No, that would just be folly and foil my evil gambit.
The dinging sound came again, alerting my servant to the fact that the machine was done with whatever it was suppose to be doing. I followed the path of a house fly lazily, the bell on my collar tink-tingling softly as it jangled against my ID tag and my license. My tag reads Jay, and that my servant is Lisa Krissentoff, and that I live in Seattle, Washington. These servants think that they own us and in a foolish attempt to try to assert their dominance on us, they bind frivolous brightly colored cloth collars with annoying little bells around our necks.
Don't they realize that those bells alert the stupid birds of my superior presences!? I cannot hunt effectively like how Mother taught me with this annoying jingling bell around my neck! I had figured out that the collar's design to allow me to escape from it, if in the unfortunate event that it would snag on something. I've freed myself several times from my collar, alas the servant would soon find it and replace the annoying object back around my neck.
Well, at least it's better than the dreaded harness or a damn ribbon. I had one of those around my neck when I was a kitten. Worse idea ever. How dare the servants tie a perfectly good toy around my neck!? They should've dangled the ribbon before me, so I could practice my pouncing.
The fly has landed on the invisible surface of the window. The servants call this invisible surface glass. I don't know what this glass is, but it's rather solid and I've crashed into it numerous times during the spring when the foolish birds tauntme from the other side. They hop and ruffle their feathers and flutter their wings, acting all cute and innocent. But I know. I'm onto their plot. It's only a matter of time before the servant makes a mistake and I can slip out the door and get my revenge! Just wait pesky little songbirds, I shall soon have my claws in you.
I've had the misfortune of learning that servants don't like presents. I returned once with a dead bird in my jaws and placed it before my servant. My servant scolded me and told me never to hunt the idiotic birds again before tossing my kill outside. I thumped my tail from side to side in annoyance. Servants have no tack. I worked hard to stalk and kill the dumb fowl all to provide for my servant and my servant just tosses my hard work outside to rot! Doesn't my servant realize that she is unable to hunt and I'm only trying to bring her food?
That had spoiled my day. I withheld my affection, clawed the couch oppose to the cat tree, kicked litter out of the litter box (I contemplated soiling my servant's laundry but decided against it), hacked up a hairball on my servant's slippers and even refused the fresh catnip she brought in. The latter was extremely difficult to deny, since it smelled so good and made my whiskers twitch.
I doubt this would teach my servant not to refuse anymore gifts, as these are for her benefit not mine as I can already hunt perfectly well; thank you very much, but at least I showed my servant my displeasure. Not that she understand. I sometimes wonder if I'm speaking a different language, because by Bast, servants are so incompetent!
Anyways, back to my original point. The fly was on the glass. I eat them from time to time. Bitter acidic tasting things, but I always seem to get praised for eating flies. Servants prove to be hypocrites in this regard. It's okay to kill flies but bad to kill those damn annoying songbirds.
Lazily, I stand, stretch and arch my back. I yawned, showing off my fangs and pink tongue, which promptly darts out to clean my nose. I began to groom myself, even though my fur is impeccable. It's habit, plus I rarely venture outdoors so I have more time to invest in my coat. I make sure to get behind my ears like Mother taught me before I causally walk towards the bookshelf beneath the window. I sit up on my hind legs to judge the jump before dropping back to all fours. I raise my tail-end, wiggle it before leaping to the top of the books. It wasn't a graceful landing. I glance around to make sure nobody saw that. The machine dings again but my servant continues to ignore it. Stupid creature. I wonder again why we began living with them, by Bast they are so useless sometimes.
Good, the fly didn't seem to notice me... yet. I chatter softly, my ears and whiskers forward, my belly low against the books and the tip of my tail twitching. I study the fly, watch as it cleans it's wings and long probing mouth. It turns in a circle before repeating it's cleaning actions. It was a big black fly.
Slowly, I put a paw before me, chattering softly as I inch closer. It smelled like fecal matter, but then again flies thrive on the decaying and dead anyways. The fly stops, it's red compound eyes trying to focus on me. Flies are terribly nearsighted. Hence they tend to bump into things a lot. I inch a bit closer and swipe my paw out at it.
There was a dunk as my paw hit the glass, the fly buzzing stupidly in the corner of the window, it's tiny brain too small to compute the fact that the glass is a sick illusion of nothingness concocted by the servants. Sunlight streams in from the window, my pupils contract to mere slits. I try again to catch fly but it's quick. It's fear and stupidity giving it extra agility. I use both paws this time, rapidly bopping at it. I just need to smack it good once to stun it before I can consume it. My tail wishes rapidly from side to side in my excitement.
Apparently, I was making a big enough conmotion for the servant to finally pay attention to the machine's dinging sound. "My laundry!" my servant shouts, as if the house was burning down. The tone of her voice causes me to flick an ear in her direction. I listened for a bit, decided it was nothing and went back to hunting the fly.
The creak of hinges cause me to flick my other ear in the direction of the door yet I determined that it was nothing and was more interested in my fly. I smelled something that made me turn my head for a split second and my fly took this chance to buzz away to the safety of the corner of the ceiling.
Claws and fangs! The damn insect got away from me. I chattered at it, pawing the air. I didn't dare jump at it. There was another bookshelf beneath it and I could injure myself. Besides I soon realize what that enticing smell was. With a soft mew I jumped off the windowsill, clearing the bookshelf with ease and casually trotted up to my servant, yet staying far enough back that I wouldn't get stepped on and my servant wouldn't try to cuddle me.
Servants fail to realize that we have strict cuddle times and that the cuddle times are determined by us and not them. It's really annoying when my servant tries to force cuddle time on me after I just finish giving myself a good tongue-bath and rubs my fur against the grain. Do they even realizehow much work it took to get my fur to lay perfectly flat against my body? Doubtful. Servants never realize anything.
So, there I sat, watching my servant gather and armload of laundry. I wrap my tail around my paws, flicking it lazily in a way that expressed mild annoyance. Luckily my servant doesn't fold the clothes right away. The servant puts the laundry down and closes the machine's door before gathering the laundry again and briskly walks to the bedroom. I follow, tail held high with a slight bend to the tip. My servant dumps the laundry on her bed and starts to fold when the infernal noise of that moving-picture box comes back on. "It's back on!" my servant shouts and rushes pass me. I had the good sense and reflexes to pull my nose back from the door.
I flick my ear backward to listen to my servant get comfy on the couch, which makes a rather good scratching post but is forbidden for some reason. Servants and their rules. I flick away imaginary water from my paw before I lick it a few times and continue into the bedroom.
There, on the bed was the pile of laundry. I jump up and began sniffing it. I could feel the heat radiate off of the closes. It wasn't an overly warm heat, but it was warm enough to be cozy. I began to purr as I hop onto the pile of laundry.
I roll around in the laundry, asserting my ownership over my servant. I had to let others know that this servant belonged to me and this was a much better way than putting a collar on my servant.
The static from the laundry makes my fur tingling and I quickly lick it down. Once that was done I realized that the warmth of the laundry was making me sleepy. I yawned and curl up in the laundry and took a well deserved cat nap. I purred happily a few minutes later when my servant began stroking my fur.