I Wish I Was a Cat.

I wish I was a cat. Not necessarily the Cat in the Hat, one of the cast of the Andrew Lloyd Webber hit musical or Salem. Although I do love Sabrina. And ESPECIALLY not Leo the Zodiac Sign. Just a cat. An ordinary, run of the mill, bog standard, clean and simple, with a bow (a nice red one), pure breed, pedigree, show cat. Nothing complicated. I want to arch my back and rub myself against all the textures of my domain. I want to turn my nose up at the meal I am offered and walk away to return later and find one that better meets my expectations. I want to curl up in front of a fire all winter and on a sunny windowsill all summer, and thus be warm 365 days a year. Warm and toasty. I want to wag my tail and have everyone wonder whether it means I am quite content or just about to scratch your face off. I want to sneeze and enjoy the surprise of this occurance, to be genuinely shocked that I have made this sound. I want to select carefully the most inappropriate and inconvenient moment to enjoy attending nature's call, and make as much noise as possible covering it with those uncomfortable, little gravelly pieces I am provided with as a 'toilet'. I want to enjoy my control over every surface in the house, whether it be to curl up on in an almost invisible ball or sharpen my claws. I want to actually be able to curl up into a ball until I am almost invisible. I've tried and I can't. I want paws. It is so much prettier a word than hands. I want paw prints too. I want the power to make everyone feel slightly queezy as I cough up a perfectly formed ball of hair. And then with my paws that leave paw prints hit it around the floor, wagging my tail in enjoyment. I want legal drugs in the form of catnip that make me go crazy. I want everyone to think I have a perverted enjoyment of mice, fish and birds. And a fear of dogs, although it is all an act until I want you to know that they are in fact afraid of me. I want the ability to be truly indignant. And rude. I want to purr. I'd love to purr. To have a sound that I can make that means I am truly and honestly content. That I am not completely and utterly disappointed in you as a human being. Although I always am allowed to be a little. Because I'm a cat. Just a cat. An ordinary, run of the mill, bog standard, clean and simple, with a bow (actually I think I want a blue one), pure breed, pedigree, show cat. And I want to be able to do all of this without all of you thinking I'm weird because I am not actually a cat. I am a human being. Which in comparison to a cat is nothing. Hiss, purr, wag my tail and scratch the furniture.