Manderlay's Meow
Tuesday, June 9th, 2009Manderlay’s Meow
Am I appreciated? I had a scurrilous start in life, being rudely deposited in a suburban pet shop at barely six weeks, mother’s milk clinging to my chin.
The bristle-faced clod at the cash register priced me at ten dollars. Disbelief! I mean, I am a ginger tom of the finest English breeding. Mother informed me that father belonged to a how do I figure federal taxes butler. On Chatsworth Street. No doubt he was a superb mouser. Had I been adopted into a country estate, I would have reigned over my own barn.
Despite my present position, I refrained from panic. I irs 1040 instructions had to make my escape with the greatest speed, so I built up my rйsumй of pleading looks — innocent or rakish, whatever got me sold. I was no pussy, but I deplored the sawdust floor we were imprisoned on. Sharing a bowl with my siblings allowed no proper order of rank, and that shop fellow expected me to play with shredded newspaper!
Fortune was with me. I had been cloistered for only a few days when my future servants walked dreamily into the store desiring a pair of darlings — ginger and black males. Well of course they adored me. Chalk-blue eyes, creamy red fur… really a strawberry blonde. Black brother was not so handsome. He was the big boy of the tokoh tempatan malaysia litter, though he remained my submissive. It seemed obvious that I was the only one of the group to represent our distinguished lineage.
He and I were clasped; held in the air; talked to; paid for and receipted. We gave our siblings a ponderous farewell, hoping they would prosper likewise. Our winsome sister mewed thinly, fearing to leave the security of the litter tray. Dots of absorbent clay powdered her feverish nose. Too delicate for street life, she must acquire a trusting owner. We swallowed hard with grief. Would she end up smooching in the alleys? Not a moment did we have to consider before they deposited us into a grocery box. Lemon detergent scented our tomb. Sorcery sneezed and shuddered. My ears flicked as I heard the lid being mightily taped to ensure our bondage. A strained yank had us strapped onto a car seat. Our heads lurched forward and we two innocents were chauffeured home.
My brother’s old-gold eyes glimmered as unblinking torches while I savaged the cardboard that bound us. When they released us onto the lounge room carpet, I was gagging on sticky tape. Exploding with ecstasy, we leapt onto our hind legs, twisting with feline joy. Our servants
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