I return to my bed and consider if that was breakfast then I hope lunch and dinner will be better. I am an obligate carnivore and need meat to survive. I fall asleep and dream of eating elephants, hippos, and giraffes. In my dream, someone starts caressing my head when I’m chewing an elephant’s leg and I wake up to see the male human stroking my head gently.
“Come on, Freddie,” he says, “you must be bursting, let’s show you your litter tray and breakfast dish.”
I miaow because I already know where they are but he ignores me and we walk past the cupboard where my litter tray is and the kitchen counters where my breakfast was and down some stairs into the basement, as they call it, the part of the house that’s under the ground. There’s a small area where Gemma is already eating. She gives me a Sneer Level 2. Apparently, my breakfast is in the big white bowl, kibbles and some meat out of a tin. The male human puts me down in a large blue tray full of cat litter and says “This is your litter tray, Freddie, and the red one is Gemma’s litter tray. Don’t use that because she gets very upset.” Gemma gave me a Sneer Level 5 just to emphasize the point. I feel a little embarrassed because I have made two incorrect assumptions. There are no green bulbous plants in this litter tray and no spikes to surprise me if I am not paying attention. The kibbles and cat food taste really nice, a lot better than what I consumed earlier in the morning. Now I have a problem. How do I get my poo out of the tray on top of the cupboard and into the litter tray in the basement? Or should I leave it in the hope it will decompose? Or perhaps they’ll blame a rat or a large mouse? Or maybe Gemma? That wouldn’t be a good thing, my life wouldn’t be worth living. I resolve to sleep on it for the rest of the morning and then explore in the afternoon. What I really need is a small bag to place the offending articles in.
Julian Worker Fiction Writing 