About a month ago, there, shining like a beacon on the side of my trusty Meow Mix box of kitty chow, was an advertisement for the latest and greatest in feline entertainment novelties. And all you had to do to obtain this miraculous objet was collect a dozen upc codes from the sides of the boxes and mail them in to Meow Mix headquarters in Decatur, Alabama.
I did my part and ate all of the Meow Mix I could, so that my human could gather the required upc’s. Two days later, my human mailed them in. It’s been a torturous wait since then. At least two of my lives have been spent in the interim, but I believe my day has arrived. I can hear the dogs barking now.
Dogs following our mailman always alert me to his arrival in our neighborhood. For next door, there lives a dog named Little Man, who can yelp with the best of them. It is rumored that his bark alone sends birds flying off two counties over. Today, Little Man wailed like his tail was on fire signaling the mail has arrived.
I run to the window and my eyes behold the glorious package clutched in his mittened hands espousing the Meow Mix yellow and red logo all over it. The time has come. I follow my human to the kitchen and sit at her feet staring and waiting. Three years later she opens the box, rubs my head, and hands me my very own leopard print mouse with the long string tail and insides that squeak when you bite it.
I run to the bedroom to score some alone time with my new prized possession. I bat it around the room with careless abandon. I pounce on it no less than six times, two in sneak attacks from under the bed. I sniff and I chew. Wanting to mark it as my very own, I end my most magnificent afternoon by sitting on it. Yes, I rub my bottom all over it and then promptly collapse into a deep sleep.
I later awake to my brother Salem standing over me, shaking my new toy asking, “Is this new? And why does it reek of your butt?”
All I could do was give the most, down to my bone, gratifying smile a happy cat can give. Then I wink just to piss him off.