Please allow me to introduce myself. I’m Sasha. I’m half Siamese and half Calico, but the Siamese in me is less evident than the Calico. I live here in this house with Jake. Many times, I’ve watched Jake peck away at this keyboard as he was writing to you. I must admit, the big guy is much faster at pressing these keys than I am, but for all his dexterity, I doubt that he would have communicated anything with any greater insight or intelligence than I offer. Since I haven’t seen him do this typing thing for awhile, I figured that it was my turn to step up to the keyboard.

The above mentioned human calls me “his cat.” Hah! As if anyone could “own” a cat! I mean, I like him and all, he treats me nicely enough, but he often talks in very condescending terms about me and my behaviours. My behaviours! This person eats things that are green! No kidding! He eats things that have neither flesh nor the trace of a smell of blood. He eats hot mush! Hot mush! He sleeps all night long. He has not even a respectable trace of fur and he walks around on his back legs as if he were constantly performing in some kind of circus. He’s big and clumsy beyond belief. And I know he couldn’t hop daintily up onto the back of a single chair in the house and stay there for any length of time. And yet, he has the audacity to talk about me as if I were some kind of… of “entertainment” for him!

He is a trial. I mean, I do like him well enough. He makes sure that there’s food in my bowl and that my water is replenished. I play chasing games with him sometimes. And the big guy can give a massage like you wouldn’t believe. But here’s the thing. He talks to me like I’m some kind of odd infant. Or he asks absurd questions. He screws up his voice into this high, tight range and says things like, “How were things at MeowMart today, Sasha?” Or, “Hey, Sasha, how’s every little thing?” Or, and this is one of his favourites, “What was on Cat TV today?” Then he hoots and howls like some of the animals I’ve watched on Animal Planet – the ones with the big, fleshy ears like he has.

Now I must tell you about what I watched on Cat TV this morning! Far from my usual fare of soap operas, home shows and wildlife shows, this one was a bona fide horror show! I know my genres, and this one was a definite fright flick. It all started when I followed Jake upstairs in the morning. I took up a suitably hampering position on the top step, so that my person would have to get me to move in order to go down the stairs. Then I just sat there waiting for further interaction. Well, before long, Jake comes along, wrapped in a towel. I watched through the open door as he hung the towel on a hook in the bathroom. He stepped (all pink and fleshy) behind a clear plastic curtain and water poured over him for minutes on end! It was horrible, truly horrible, but somehow, I was transfixed. I couldn’t move. I watched with as much composure as I could muster, but some of the horrible sounds and images were burned into my brain and I’m sure that I shall not forget them until at least supper time!

Then, as if that weren’t enough, Jake steps out from behind the plastic sheet, looking blotchy and almost painfully pink, water dripping off him everywhere, his hair literally matted down to his skull with water, and he says to me, “Hi Sasha, what’s on Cat TV?” I squinched my eyes shut, to try to erase the memory of the image, but also to convey feline nonchalance in response to such an absurd inquiry. And sure enough, the show changed and everything went back to normal. But somehow, the Horror Show on Cat TV this morning seemed all too real, and I hope I shall never have to see such a show again.

I can put up with Jake calling me all kinds of names. He calls me, “Fancy Pants” and “Splotch” and sometimes he calls me “Koo-Koo,” one never knows what ridiculous moniker he might apply to me. I’ll put up with his human stink. I’ll put up with the fact that he never seems to lick himself clean. But I hope I never have to endure another episode of “Pudgey Pink Man Drenched in Water” on Cat TV as long as I live. It was just too horrible. I think that I may even avoid the top-of-the-stairs screen altogether, it just doesn’t seem to have any shows worth watching.

I’m sure that if Jake were here, he’d send his regards, so please accept them from me on his behalf.

As we often say in the cat world, “Buono di pesca!”
(Good Fishing!) CIAO!

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