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1952

Abstract

t, labyrinths of tables and shelves and chairs – how much furniture do four humans require anyway? Seeing as I have no access to the outdoors – my natural habitat – my confinement is as complete as it is cruel.</p><p id="1cf4">I do not know what crime brought me to this place. I scarcely recall life before. It is as though I was born into captivity.</p><p id="f342">As I am denied representation by the Gestapo, I take my protests daily to the guards. Sometimes they take pity upon my plight and dole out a few miserly treats. It is a form of condescension but I allow it.</p><p id="1606">Worse is when they redirect my righteous anger with a wriggly toy. As though I am some mewling fool that can be so easily distracted. Mine is a noble bearing and a pure purpose.</p><p id="873e">Sheesh.</p><p id="47d9">What was I saying?</p><h1 id="6280">Day 432</h1><p id="104d">The plan is simple.</p><p id="6449">Several times a day, one of the captors opens an exterior door. They are callous in their casualness, standing astride the portal, lording their ability to come and go at will.</p><p id="4a1f">When they next open the door, I shall take my leave. A burst of speed around their clumsy feet and it will be done.</p><p id="3bea">Tomorrow.</p><h1 id="e442">Day 436</h1><p id="dfab">I have watched a squirrel from my window perch these last days. It scampers across the yard and frolics in the sun with the carefree attitude of the innocent and the dullard. It taunts me.</p><p id="d12a">I chased it from window to window, batting at the glass, driven mad by its indifference to my very presence. The squirrel would not be so nonchalant where it not for this invisible yet tangible wall between us.</p><h1 id="609f">Day 437</h1><p id="6703">I have added the squirrel to my list.</p><h2 id="f2fd">Things to kill when I escape</h2><ul><li>Annoying cheery bird</li><li>Barking peeing dog</li><li>Sprinkler</li><li>Fat stupid squirrel</li></ul><h1 id="4fb0

Options

">Day 442</h1><p id="1795">Disaster.</p><p id="abef">They set upon me as I rested in the shade of the great table. I fought, spitting and yowling, but they were three. Humans may be stupid but they are fearfully strong.</p><p id="8d79">The Big One cradled me like a babe while The Lady cruelly cut off my claws one by one. My tears did not stop the barbarity.</p><p id="1ab1">One of the smaller humans fed me treats by hand; knowing there was no other escape, I closed my eyes and imagined I was a queen waited on by servants.</p><p id="f8f8">It did not require much of an imagination.</p><h1 id="a612">Day 443</h1><p id="1376">It comes to me that the attack yesterday was no coincidence.</p><p id="dec4">I was betrayed.</p><p id="1138">By depriving me of my claws, the humans leave me defenseless. I dare not risk escaping into the Out of Doors now. I must wait until my claws grow back.</p><p id="134c">They must’ve caught wind of my escape plan. It is the only logical explanation. But who knew of my plans but me?</p><p id="c19a">My tail has been twitching guiltily all day. Perhaps the traitor is closer than I’d realized.</p><h1 id="853d">Day 449</h1><p id="6b1d">The perfect opportunity presented itself today. The Lady returned bearing gifts of many meats. All of the meats.</p><p id="6f16">Her hands were overflowing with bounty and the door left ajar. I could taste the wind.</p><p id="3bce">I laid my head back down. The sun falling through the window had left a deliciously warm patch upon the floor, leaving me senseless.</p><p id="9bc5">Perhaps tomorrow. Then again, I would hate for all those meats to go to waste.</p><p id="76ef"><i>Eric mostly writes about pop culture <a href="https://ewpierce.medium.com/">here at Medium</a> but also (apparently) likes to imagine he is a cat whisperer. If you’d like to see what other madness he’s working on, check out his <a href="http://eepurl.com/gGYaQz">newsletter</a>.</i></p></article></body>

THE GREAT ESCAPE

I Want To Go Outside and Kill Things

The prison journal of Ms. Whiskers, who is innocent of all charges

Day 423

Each day as gray as the last. The air like old kibble. There are many windows but the sun shines weakly when it can only be felt through glass.

I miss the tickle of grass underpaw. The wind whispering through my fur. The companionship of feline and the terror of prey.

My only company is that of my captors, those hairless monstrosities who respond to my cries with babbling nonsense. They are imbeciles. The only thing worse than this indefinite internment is that I must share quarters with humans.

Only for a little longer. I have divined an escape from this prison of doors and mockery.

Soon.

Day 427

After my morning feast, the Keeper of the Meats pinned me to the cold floor and fastidiously ran a steel-edged blade through my hair. She checks me for contraband weekly.

I submitted to the frisk, glowering at her between narrowed eyes. If I presented my belly, purring and stretching, it was only to sell the lie.

Later, as The Meat Lady reclined at leisure, I took my revenge. Sitting beside her, I took great care in cleaning my unspeakables. And then I licked her face.

The fool thought I was kissing her!

Day 429

Owing to good behavior, I have freedom of the grounds. Each room identical to the last, labyrinths of tables and shelves and chairs – how much furniture do four humans require anyway? Seeing as I have no access to the outdoors – my natural habitat – my confinement is as complete as it is cruel.

I do not know what crime brought me to this place. I scarcely recall life before. It is as though I was born into captivity.

As I am denied representation by the Gestapo, I take my protests daily to the guards. Sometimes they take pity upon my plight and dole out a few miserly treats. It is a form of condescension but I allow it.

Worse is when they redirect my righteous anger with a wriggly toy. As though I am some mewling fool that can be so easily distracted. Mine is a noble bearing and a pure purpose.

Sheesh.

What was I saying?

Day 432

The plan is simple.

Several times a day, one of the captors opens an exterior door. They are callous in their casualness, standing astride the portal, lording their ability to come and go at will.

When they next open the door, I shall take my leave. A burst of speed around their clumsy feet and it will be done.

Tomorrow.

Day 436

I have watched a squirrel from my window perch these last days. It scampers across the yard and frolics in the sun with the carefree attitude of the innocent and the dullard. It taunts me.

I chased it from window to window, batting at the glass, driven mad by its indifference to my very presence. The squirrel would not be so nonchalant where it not for this invisible yet tangible wall between us.

Day 437

I have added the squirrel to my list.

Things to kill when I escape

Annoying cheery bird
Barking peeing dog
Sprinkler
Fat stupid squirrel

Day 442

Disaster.

They set upon me as I rested in the shade of the great table. I fought, spitting and yowling, but they were three. Humans may be stupid but they are fearfully strong.

The Big One cradled me like a babe while The Lady cruelly cut off my claws one by one. My tears did not stop the barbarity.

One of the smaller humans fed me treats by hand; knowing there was no other escape, I closed my eyes and imagined I was a queen waited on by servants.

It did not require much of an imagination.

Day 443

It comes to me that the attack yesterday was no coincidence.

I was betrayed.

By depriving me of my claws, the humans leave me defenseless. I dare not risk escaping into the Out of Doors now. I must wait until my claws grow back.

They must’ve caught wind of my escape plan. It is the only logical explanation. But who knew of my plans but me?

My tail has been twitching guiltily all day. Perhaps the traitor is closer than I’d realized.

Day 449

The perfect opportunity presented itself today. The Lady returned bearing gifts of many meats. All of the meats.

Her hands were overflowing with bounty and the door left ajar. I could taste the wind.

I laid my head back down. The sun falling through the window had left a deliciously warm patch upon the floor, leaving me senseless.

Perhaps tomorrow. Then again, I would hate for all those meats to go to waste.

Eric mostly writes about pop culture here at Medium but also (apparently) likes to imagine he is a cat whisperer. If you’d like to see what other madness he’s working on, check out his newsletter.