Meowsings of a Cat

Day One

I was transferred from the holding cells today. I bid fare thee well to my fellow inmates as the humans moved me into a small travelling cage. At first I was relieved, surely nothing could be worse than the daily monotony of Sunset ~~Medows~~ Meadows Adoption Center. We lived in daily fear of Warden, an overweight man with a bushy moustache who threatened to kick us and whip us if we stepped out of line. But Red Door was our greatest tormentor. Warden would take those of us who had been here longest through Red Door and they never came back. We never heard their screams, that was the scariest part. And so I went willingly – the fool that I was.

I spent much of the rest of the day in my cage being poked and prodded by two of the smaller humans. Upon arriving at the new prison, somewhere called Longfield Lane, I was freed from my confinement. The humans had prepared a nasty surprise for me. In what I can only define as some kind of initiation or hazing ritual a large, blonde Dog charged me as I tentatively stepped out of my cage, and chased me through the prison yard (I later heard the largest human refer to this as ~~Lownj~~ ~~Lowgne~~ ‘Living Room’). Utilising my superior agility I managed to evade the brute and climb up the curtains – tearing them slightly to my captor’s dismay (and my delight). From there I jumped onto a tall lamp where I hissed and clawed at the beast’s nose when he jumped up.

I expected my new Wardens to scold and punish this unprecedented violence, yet Dog was rewarded with cuddles, and I scolded for attacking ‘Buddy’. I see their cruel machinations now, for surely they intended Dog to befriend me and gain my trust, whilst secretly reporting back to them. Yet Dog was too ignorant to carry out their dastardly plans – typical of all Dogs really. I must remain ~~vligant~~ vigilant lest I fall into his path.

As the light did dwindle in the window, the humans set out a cardboard box for me and covered it in an old rag. Before lights out, they continuously informed me that they would ‘get something better soon’ and to ‘stay off the furniture’. Their promises did little to shield me from the drafts of cold air rushing through the threadbare cloth and their warnings did not frighten me, for I soon sprawled out among the sofa cushions in comfort and warmth. How could I be subjected to such cruel and unusual punishments whilst these humans relished in luxuries denied to me?

In the morning my hairs were found among the sofa and the humans shouted at me. I feared they would kick me like the old Warden used to, or perhaps set Dog on me again, yet this did not appear to be the case, although I could hear him howling from somewhere else in the prison as the humans hoovered the sofa cushions. My first act of rebellion had gone unpunished – a success! I later overheard the taller humans, one male, one female, conversing; it seems I shall be getting better quarters in which to spend the nights in order to keep me off the sofa – hmm, we shall see.

Day Four

The humans have finally settled on my prison name – something each animal receives. I had heard rumours about these back at Sunset Meadows, and had been praying they were unfounded. Alas, no such luck befell me.

Marshmallow. *sigh* My Grandfather was a King and here I now sit, dubbed Marshmallow. At least it is somewhat original. I believe the smallest human decided on it, and it could certainly have been worse. Fellow inmates back at Sunset had relaid tales of Mr. Whiskers, or even Fluffy… *shudder*, a name only as bad as its infamy.

In my ever-increasing small acts of rebellion and retribution I have been refusing to answer to this name, much to the dismay of the human child. Tough. I am not one to be becked and called like Dog. Us Cats are more resilient and self-assured than that. I have always thought of myself as simply ‘Cat’ and that’s the way it shall stay. I will not become one of those indoctrinated fools who ally themselves with their captors. No Sirrah! I will remain myself, and soon I will surely be free.

Dog continues to stalk me wherever I roam, and so I have found new ways of traversing the prison. Balconies and shelves have become my apparatus for elluding the dumb beast, though sometimes I wind myself around the humans’ feet and this seems to through Dog off my scent. The fool – he is easily distracted by bright colours and shapes, perhaps I may use this to my advantage in the future.

I have only found solace in the upper levels of the Longfield Prison, which seem to be off-limits to it. Ha! The humans’ rules mean nothing to me, and I shall go where I please. Whilst exploring these rooms I discovered a fellow inmate, Bird, encased in a metal cage and hanging from the ceiling. I wonder what vicious crimes he had committed prior to his confinement. His pleas for freedom fell of deaf ears, for I know better than to trust Bird, who I would later see chirping merrily to the Wardens. Surely he reports my every move in hopes of gaining their favour.

I am to be surrounded by enemies and traitors then, perhaps I should have stayed at Sunset Meadows…

Day Nineteen

I have found some small comfort during my days here. Although it is rarely enough to distract me from my yearning to escape this place, it does bring me enough comfort that I temporarily forget about the dangers surrounding me.

I have found that by pushing my head into the hands of the human child that she will stroke my fur. Whilst I was reluctant at first, even clawing and hissing at them, I now find the sensation oddly relaxing. Perhaps the smaller human is not so bad. It almost makes me forget my position in this household, almost makes me forget that I am merely their prisoner and their plaything… almost.

Day Thirty-Four

The humans have arranged for a scratching post to be installed in the main yard. This was the first piece of good news I had received since arriving at Longfield. They believe it to simply be a plaything for me, the fools. It is highly sensitive equipment that I shall use to train, to sharpen my claws and improve my reflexes and climbing talents. Soon I shall be strong enough to escape.

During my time here I have perceived that the humans regularly dine lavishly on fresh meats, sometimes delivered to the prison gates and other times brought out from the cold pantry. They are seasoned and wrapped in smaller meats, succulent and delicious, often paired with potatoes of some description and a red coloured liquid that only the two taller humans drink. It smells divine. And yet despite being surrounded by the comforts of warm food I am instead forced to consume dry, tasteless pellets. Eugh. I make my contempt for this appalling meal clear every time it is served to me (which is every day), and yet I am given no recompense. No shelter in which to weather the storm. And so I eat them fervently at night once my Wardens are bed-ridden. I must keep my strength up.

If this wasn’t bad enough, I see Dog receiving special treatment. Although he is given the same bland substance myself (and presumably Bird) receive, when he goes up to the humans during their consumption he is often rewarded with tidbits of fresh, delicious food. Outrageous! The pallets of Cats are significantly more refined, my own pallet slightly less so owing to my time in captivity, yet nonetheless much better than any Dogs’. Clearly he is not to be trusted. I attempted this trick only once, but was blatantly refused and even kicked from under the table. I managed to swipe at the leg with my claws and received a satisfying yell. Dog, startled by any loud noise as per usual, came a-running and forced me to flee.

The suffering continues.

Day Seventy-Nine

I have been at Longfield Lane Prison for over two months now, and am becoming intimately familiar with my captors’ routines.

Today, whilst sneaking past a sleeping Dog between two pairs of long, hairy legs, I almost tripped up the female Warden. Instead I had to settle for them dropping their ‘tea’ (a hot, brown liquid) all over my fur, burning me lightly as I ran to the curtains for cover. Later the humans forced me into a white bath, and hosed me down with ice cold water – as if they hadn’t already done enough.

NOTE: I must try weaving myself through their legs at the top of the stairs…

Day Ninety-Four

The humans have let me outside! in the exterior prison yard that they refer to as Garden. Sadly however, this was preceded by a visit to Vet – the ancient shapeshifting enemy of the Cats whose face takes many forms.

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Once back at Longfield I made clear my disgust for their violent transgressions. As soon as they released me from my travelling cage I vomited onto their carpet. How DARE they conduct their vile experiments on me! This shall teach them. Also, the car journey did not help.

Whilst roaming Garden, with the feel of fresh air blowing through my fur, and the soft grass beneath my paws, I did not feel elated as I should have. What was supposed to be a momentous occasion of victory has instead turned sour. The Vet’s magicks and the evils of ‘Medicine’ have left me feeling weak, and I did not have the strength to climb the prison walls to freedom.

With my tail between my legs and my head feeling woozy, I slunk away inside. I must regain my strength.

Day One Hundred and Twelve

Garden is my favourite place in this hell-hole. It has allowed me to refine my hunting skills – good practise for the days ahead.

I have not yet been able to escape these walls, and my frustration and anger grow daily. I must be rid of this place. Whilst I was recuperating from the nightmares of Vet, the tall human (sometimes referred to as Dad) had fixed a spiked metal wire to the tops of the walls; it scratches my fur and I dare not risk injuring myself for fear of a return visit.

This morning I served my captors the still-warm body of a Mouse I caught during my morning time in Garden (they had installed a small door in order that I might come and go as I please – finally some consideration). Clearly this demonstrates my prowess as a hunter, a viciousness unparalleled among the humans. And there they sat, the smallest one even called me a “good kitty”. The cheek! Oh I shall have them all beneath my claws, soon…

What must I do to scare these people?

Day One Hundred and Sixty-Three

The humans gathered for a Ceremony of some description this evening. Very tacky and far too colourful – a perfect affair for someone of Dog’s status, but hardly a soiree befitting of myself. And so I allow myself at the Warden’s behest to be taken upstairs and locked in the room with Bird. I have since learnt that this was due to the power of Allergies – what does this mean? And how might I utilise it in my resistance efforts? My conversations with Bird reveal nothing about the nature of this power I hold over the humans, typical. Are we not both prisoners here?

Mind you, he need not be entirely useless in my campaign to escape. I have perceived several similar Birds outside in Garden, and they look most intriguing. The gruel I have come to expect from my captors is becoming increasingly unsatisfying, and the small creatures of Garden more frequently cross my mind as an alternative. Fresh meat, mmh, perhaps paired with the red human liquid… I can almost taste it.

And perhaps Bird would rather this than remain in his small cage, something of a mercy. During our evening discourse I discovered his pet name to be ‘Tweetie Pie’. This was highly amusing to myself and I spent several minutes laughing before he reminded me that ‘Marshmallow’ is seldom a better alternative – true enough I suppose. Yet it’s not as bad as being a blue budgie and being named for a yellow canary. These humans really are incompetant.