Once upon a time two people went to the animal shelter. Their free will had been usurped by the superior being you can see pictured to the right.
“You will find a way to have me released from this cage and you will do it promptly,” she told us — telepathically — with the voice of James Earl Jones.
I suddenly feel compelled to get a cat,” my husband said.
“Weird. I was just thinking the same thing!” I said.
Please allow me to introduce her majestic being, Pyewackett. She grew up on the mean streets of Austin in guttersnipe conditions. Somehow, she survived all the dangers a kitten can face: cars, owls, disease, parasites, psychopaths who hurt animals for giggles …
Actually, there is no mystery. I know how she survived. She is terribly clever and she must have had a mom cat who loved her very much.
Once she became accustomed to our humble home she asked/demanded access outside. She said she needed to patrol the perimeter. We did not know what to do. Should we let her outside? What if she killed birds and lizards? But, if we kept her inside she would perish from boredom. Once you have tasted freedom can you ever forget?
Well, it seems we did not need to agonize over the decision. “A well-fed pet cat is unlikely to cause any significant damage,” according to cat expert John Bradshaw.
Feral cats of course are another story.
Last night I could hear her singing this song with some of her buddies:
And we’ll never be royals (royals).
It don’t run in our blood,
That kind of luxe just ain’t for us.
We crave a different kind of buzz.
Let me be your ruler (ruler),
You can call me queen Bee
And baby I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule.
Let me live that fantasy.