My Twelve Hours Living As A Cat

My name is Muffin now

Housecats have a pretty sweet deal; nothing but kibble, tummy-rubs and naps, just like a Kardashian. That’s why I decided to give the lifestyle a try. Read on to see if it’s right for you.

7:30 am

My wife Charlene had left a glass of water on the coffee table so I pushed it onto the hardwood floor where it exploded in a very satisfying fashion. Flush with success, I jumped onto the windowsill, gnawed off a large chunk of a succulent and threw up.

7:45 am

I’m not an outdoor cat, so I hid in the closet in the front hall and raced out when my ten-year-old son opened the door to go to school. You should have seen the look on his face when he realized he’d been duped!

8:00 am

Nobody made me breakfast this morning, so I tried some other approaches. After chasing a few birds around with no luck, I jumped over the fence into the neighbour’s yard and stared through their patio door, mewing plaintively. After a couple minutes Steve opened the door and said ‘Everything ok at home, Pat?” but he didn't have any food so I scratched him and ran away.

8:00 am

On the subway I saw a man with a dour expression on his face, and I sat in his lap and kneaded his belly with my paws while purring loudly. Turns out he was one of those people who don’t like cats so there was some fuss and a security alarm was pressed. I was able to get off at the next stop but had to walk the rest of the way to work.

8:45 am

Finally got to the office and spent a few minutes in the kitchen rubbing up against people’s legs but no one had any Purina. Luckily I was able to pull some cheese from a half-eaten bagel out of the green bin.

9:00

The morning meeting was boring so I multi-tasked by lying on the floor and licking my armpits.

9:15 am

Following the meeting debacle, I made an early move into my day’s primary task, which was napping on a heat vent behind a stack of boxes in the supply cabinet. I heard some people in the office say my name, but the hell with that, I’m called “Muffin” now. Anyway, cats don’t come when they’re called and they sure don’t go see HR.

4:00 pm

Somebody must have called Charlene because she came to pick me up from work and was able to find me right away. She knows what I like. I got in the car ok but once it started moving it was just too scary and I started screaming and trying to get out the window, which was closed. Then I puked up a ball of armpit hair and just felt sick for a while.

6:00 pm

I am in a heavily wooded area outside of the city where Charlene pushed me out of the car and said “You’re a feral cat now, buddy.” Am going to try to hook up with a lost golden retriever and see if we can incredible-journey our way home.

Rethinking this life choice.