Characterization: The Supercilious and Sanctimonious Feline

            We cats are underrated by humans. We cats have very keen senses of smell. It is often a trait praised by the humans in the canine species. Perhaps, though, they boast of this trait as they realize dogs don’t have much else in their favor. Anyway, the lady of my house was baking a cake, and the smell was drifting over the house. Which is another little known thing about cats: we do like more than tuna. The smell was making my stomach grumble like the whir of an electric can opener. I wanted just a taste of that cake.

            However, we cats don’t beg. Except, perhaps, occasionally when it comes to tuna. So, I positioned myself in the kitchen window while it was baking. The buzzer went off, the sharp sound causing my tail to twitch like a nervous mouse with too much caffeine. The cake was retrieved from the gaping hole of the oven, and placed to cool on the counter. She saw me—the kitchen window was right opposite the counter. I made sure to make eye contact with her: my clear indication that I was willing to partake of her cake, in order to encourage her for a job well done. Did this make her think to share some with me? Of course not. We cats are overlooked as well as underrated. Humans never give a thought to us despite all we do for them.

            The lady busied herself about the kitchen while I washed and cast sulky glares in her direction. Did she notice? No. Irate nerves called for a fastidious cat-bath. We cats, unlike some so called “domesticated” animals (ahem, dogs), do know how to calm ourselves in the midst of the most dire of circumstances—the straits in which I currently found myself in. This ancient feline ritual did soothe my nerves a little bit. Restoring to Plan B, I left the room, and went in search of a warm place to sleep as a means to reconnoiter.

            Sometime later, I woke up. The sun was setting, coloring the sky like the stripes of an orange marmalade cat. I began my usual evening rounds to ensure that all was well within my peaceful abode. At the top of the stairs, I stopped. My keen ears picked up the sound of intruders. I stalked down the stairs, my eyes slit in a wary glare. I would get to the bottom of this.

            There were visitors in the living room. I jotted down mental notes: male, sparse white hair, shiny watch, and smelly feet; female, poofy white hair (why they have never learned to properly wash and smooth their hair, I don’t know), a shiny ring,  and with a strong smell of what they call perfume—I just call it smelly. It makes my whiskers curl. Anyway, after staring at the man for sometime, I decided that they were peaceful invaders and no threat to those under my care—the lady who serves me. Thus, I continued my rounds. I left the living room and began to check the kitchen.

            The first thing to catch my observant eye—the lady had left the cake out. It was sitting there, in plain view on the kitchen counter. The smell still faintly clung to it and lured me closer. I glanced back to the living room. They were still engaged in their chatter.  

            As a rule, cats don’t beg. According to our own cultured code of conduct of cats, we never steal.  We are too clever to have to resort to that. But this wasn’t really stealing. After all, it is my house. And she hadn’t even offered me a piece earlier. And for all I do for them, I really deserve just a little bit. They won’t miss it. After all, there is a lot of cake. And the lady is always saying she should eat fewer sweets. So, I decided to do my duty and help her with that.

            She caught me licking the frosting off of the cake. If you didn’t think cats like frosting, think again. It was good, oooh, so good. Apparently, the lady did not share my perspective. She didn’t even let me explain! I was rudely shoved off the counter, her overwrought emotions making much more of a clamor than necessary for such a thing. Really—what an affront! My feelings and dignity hurt, I stalked to the living room. I glared at them all as they ate cake, just to make sure they knew what unjust and parsimonious creatures they really were. The quick indignant flicks of my tail said it all.