by Katley Demetria Brown

Created on: February 19, 2009   Last Updated: April 18, 2010

A Cat's Life

Hi, my name is RROWR, but my people call me Jerry, short for Jeremiah. I don't know why they gave me this strange name, but that's humans for you.

I live with three people, Dad, the big one with the loud voice, Marty, the young one, and Mom, who doesn't pay enough attention to me. She says she's always busy.

They're not bad, really. People are easy to manipulate, and my humans are no exception. At least they understand Felinese, which is how we cats communicate. Mom can speak a little, but she has a strong human accent. Marty talks to me like a baby. I'm twelve years old, for goodness sakes, and it gets on my nerves. But I love her anyway.

Here's an average day at my house:

6:00 am: Dad's awake. He could wake up the roosters if we had some in the neighborhood. I go downstairs to harass him because my food dish is empty. I usually cough up a hairball after he leaves for work. Dad has a weak stomach and can't stand it when I barf, so I always wait till after he's gone for the day.

7:10 a.m. Mom swears at me because I upchucked in the middle of her living room rug, and she has just stepped in it. Marty, my favorite human, asks me if I'm OK, and then opens the cabinet under the kitchen sink for a can of Spot Shot. She sprays the place where I've left my little love offering, scrubs it with a brush, and blots it with a towel. At least she doesn't get mad like Mom does. I love all the attention they give me. The best thing about living with humans is that they do everything for me, and I don't have to lift a paw. Poor humans, they're always working. I feel sorry for them sometimes.

8:10 a.m. Mom and Marty are off to work and school. Good, nobody will bother me. It's naptime!

12:00 noon: That dream I had chasing birds has made me hungry. Where's my lunch?  I go downstairs, but nobody's home.

12:30 p.m. Marty returns home from school and about time too. I annoy her by walking on her laptop computer till she relents and pops open a can of liver and chicken chunks. It's not as good as what they eat, but it'll do. Marty says I've swallowed an alarm clock because I always know what time it is.

12:45 p.m. Marty sits down with a sandwich and a glass of milk. I stick my paw in the milk when she's not looking, and lick it off. I bother her till she lets me out on the porch, which is enclosed, so I can't escape. I see my friends Oreo and Fluffy outside begging for a handout. Marty gets up and gives them each a dollop of Friskies liver and chicken. Oreo is

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