I was born in the wild. At least that's what the boss of the people I live with keep saying. "We caught him wild," they say, as if I am not what I am but some wild creature to be chased and caught. Heh. But find and catch me they did, as some other humans had done with a brother and sister of mine. We were only kittens, or so they tell me. I was a kitten when they chased and caught me.
My first move was easy. I barely remember it all, and I was happy there. They let me roam and kill birds. Even though they fed me, I loved a tastey bluejay or cardinal. The neighbords, however, hated my way of thinking and made the boss put a jingley bell on me. I sound like a little prissy missus, or so I'm told. Not long after my first move, there was talk of the boss leaving and joining what they termed 'The Army'. I have no idea what that is exactly, but it lead to my second move.

Living at my third home was nice. I was basically an outside cat. The boss had gone and left me with no one to bite and scratch and claw at. The boss was great for exercise and fun. Good training for my trips through the forests to kill mice and birds. I lick my lips at the thought. I am a predator, you know and I much prefer to be outside. My third home made me happy. I was the master of my destiny and I enjoyed every moment of it. The local birds, however, did not.
When the boss returned, it was time to go again. This time I was not happy at all. I loved my free roaming. I liked being the boss. And what self respecting cat wants to be stuffed into a bag and then carried around like one of those yapping lap dogs that are more fashion accessory than pet? I scoff at the term pet, I should tell you. My people are mine. And they, of course, are my pets. The boss just hasn't realized it yet.
So here we are. I now have stairs. I love the stairs. I hate, however, my restrictions to the house. The boss tells me that 'The Army' will take me away if I'm caught outside alone. The girl that boss likes so much, she wants to put me on a lease. She obviously doesn't know that cats are regal and therefore above leashes.
I also hate the newest addition to the house. A dog. What could they possibly have been thinking! That dog, and I say the word dog loosely, is a foul wild beast! It chases me. Bites at me. They call her Kiaran and say she's purebred. Because I do not like the beast, I sit high up on my perch and tease it with my tail. It's like that fishing thing those humans do. Only the fish they catch do not scratch and claw at their faces. I do so love when the beast cries out in pain.
I cannot say I am unhappy. I enjoy my people and they squeal with delight when I decide they are worth my time and attention. They feed me and chase the beast away when she starts to bite at me. They even added Mister to my name to show how obviously above them I really am. Yes, I am happy. My people are happy, and the beast, though I detest her, is happy. The world is good. Or at least my little corner of it.

Learn more about this author, Courtney Lundin.
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