Let me introduce you to Henri, the Existential Cat.
Compare him, if you will. to Sylvester.
Sylvester, in his cat carrier, aka “prison no. 1”
Both suffer, at times, from ennui.
Sylvester does not have a cat door, so his suffering is double that of Henri, as he must wait for his caretaker to walk him on the odious harness. All because his ear was bitten by another cat. “Moron,” says Sylvester, of this cat. “I was protecting our property.”
Prison / torture chamber no. 2: the cat bag
Sylvester recalls being placed in this straightjacket/torture chamber when the veterinarian injected him with needles, and later, when the caretakers applied medicine to his eye and ear. “Is there no end to the indignities?” he asks.
Something Sylvester has learned: “Go along with the ways of the humans as long as it is bearable. Whenever possible, run out the back door and act contrite when they find you. It is all part of a fruitless, demeaning game.”
God, I hate France. Thank goodness for spunky American cats.
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Ha ha ha.
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Thank you dear Erica, my cat is living indoor too… Yes, their freedom is with us… So touching of course… but life in the city is not easy for them… Love, nia
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xox
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Proving once again that we should be grateful that we don’t understand what the cat is actually thinking.
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