Locked Out! My Purrsonal Tragedy...

I think my humans have it out for me! Last night they had the door open to the balcony, so I sauntered out to heckle the pigeons. (Come on! What would you have done? They're a load of lippy, fowl-mouthed hooligans! And they're not funny, anyway.) It was open for hours, and they never once suggested I was misbehaving. How was I supposed to know that when she told me to come inside it was because they were going to bed? I don't keep track of their sleeping and waking! So, I did what any clever-whiskered feline would've done: I stepped in and then hurried back out while she wasn't looking. (Don't bother tutting me, either. You'd have done it too if you were confined to a cramped, one-bedroom apartment with two disgusting humans constantly cluttering up the place!) It wasn't until the door closed that I realised what had happened.

I tried knocking on the door; but I don't have an opposable thumb, which makes doubling up a fist rather difficult, so, failing that, I tried meowing loudly - very loudly. No one answered, so I tried meowing pitiably - very pitiably. Still no one answered. I tried rubbing my paw pads against the glass, creating a somewhat realistic impersonation of a mouse squeaking. I thought they might come looking for me so that I may kill it, but to no avail. Finally, I simply fluffed up my fur and peered between the cracks of the blinds.

A few hours passed and a light clicked on in the hallway. I meowed loudly and pitiably while simultaneously squeaking my paws on the door. Damn and blast those earplugs she wears! I must make a better effort to eat them all so this sort of thing never happens again! The light went off, the bedroom door closed and my food dish taunted me from behind the glass.

I was hungry, I was cold and I was likely going to die; it was a rough night.

Another hour passed and, again, the light clicked on in the hallway. This time I squeaked vigorously with my paws, meowing frantically at the tops of my lungs! She still didn't answer! What had I done to deserve this slow torture? I only wanted to heckle pigeons, and it isn't like the filthy beggars don't deserve it!

It seemed like an eternity before Asa woke for work. He, too, wearing his earplugs. (I really need to get rid of those things.) He sat at his computer to gather his iPod, so I mustered all the strength I had left in my wasted, feline limbs and once again commenced to squeaking.

He'd heard me! The trouble was, he didn't know what the sound was!

I watched as he shut off fans, checked his computer, looked about the desk and behind the rubbish bin. My squeaking had been so convincing, he must've suspected a mouse! I squeaked harder, faster, rubbing the glass so as to melt a hole in it from the friction! All I could do was rub. Well, rub and think: "HEY! STUPID! I'M OUT HERE!"

Finally, after waking Azy to help in his search, he noticed my shadow through the crack in the blinds! He slowly opened the door and I rushed in, cursing them both for their foolishness! I was fuzzy and flustered and starving to death; and, you know, all that rotten human of mine could do was laugh and tease me with a fool's chorus of: "Oh, you're such a housecat!"

Harrrumph! Housecat? Of course I'm a hissing housecat! Common rabble can't be trusted to rule the world, can they?

I dashed to my food dish, ignoring her taunts, and gulped down as many of the tasty morsels as I could push past my hairy lips. I'd never tasted such wonderful cat food! I didn't see her switch it; but she must've, because it's back to the same old boring food I usually have now. Still, it tasted divine, and I was drooling all over myself when I saw something I wanted even more: The bed! The bed with the nice, newish, Tommy Hilfiger down alternative comforter, comfy pillows, and NO HUMANS!

I took another mug full of food, spit half of it out onto the floor in protest to my mistreatment and then dashed for the bedroom door! SLAM! She shut it before I could get in. She insisted that I sleep in the chair, since I was so keen to spend the night out on the balcony with all the pigeon poo!

KEEN? I wasn't keen! I was forced! I was trapped! I was PUT OUT like nothing more than a common alley cat! I certainly was not KEEN!

Sulkily I wandered to the comfy chair. At least no one was in it. I leapt up, drew a heavy sigh; and, after placing all of my paws beneath me so as to warm them against the cushion, I lay contemplating all that had happened. I could've frozen solid. I could've been mauled by an angry gang of pigeons! I could've STARVED to death!

Gotta go! She just opened the door to the balcony! I have some pigeons to heckle!

Yours Purringly,
W. C. Humphries (Mr. Fleez for short)