It's been so long since I've written. I barely have any energy to type. I hate my diet. Can't the people see I'm wasting away. I only weigh 17.6 pounds. I'm a big cat. I'm big-boned. I need my food in a bowl, not this ball torture device they've put it in. I heard them talking. It's supposedly a skinny cat ball, but I know it's really a debasing cat ball. It's so demeaning to have to push this thing around the house to get my food. I tried dropping it down the steps hoping it would break open, but the darn thing is quality construction. Worse even, it sometimes gets stuck under a piece of furniture where I can't fit. Nora tries to hide her laughter, but I see her smug look every time she leaps gracefully to the perch with her food.
Then, last weekend, just to make things worse, there were 3 kids here who chased me the whole time they were here. Really, just leave me alone. I have claws and teeth! And one of them kept moving my ball out of reach. They all claimed not to, but it certainly didn't float to the couch, kitty tree, and doll house by itself.
Tonight I hid under the bed. I was so depressed by that ball I didn't want anyone to see me. I'll sneak out later when they're asleep to push it around.
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