Meow and All That Shit, by Nicki

Hello, people.

Here is my story:

Born.

Three other kittens in litter, none look like me.

Suspect mother is whore.

Separated from my mother.

Never knew my father.

In shelter.

Dewormed (I don’t remember being too warm!)

Given shots.

Probably heroin.

Am addict.

Uterus removed.

Ovaries removed.

Stitched up with green thread (ready for St. Patricks!)

Relaxing at shelter, hoping for a quick death.

Find out from cage-mate it’s a no-kill shelter.

Ask for more pain pills.

Fall asleep.

See Family of Horror approach. Freckle Face, Bald Spot, some yammering kids and some ancients.

Freckle Face calls The Ancients “mama” and “papa”. What is this, The Waltons?

Freckle Face tells Bald Spot, “Just don’t be yourself. Let me do the talking.”

Suspect Freckle Face doesn’t have any trouble talking over everyone.

Freckle Face can’t shut up. “Remember, you love cats and are enthusiastic to adopt,” she hiss-coaches Bald Spot.

Kids are cute but a little too yappy for my taste. Hello, some of us are ovaryless and are trying to rest!

Avoid eye contact at all cost.

Pretend to be asleep.

Pretend to be dead.

Ignore all cooing and “OMG, I LOVE THAT ONE!”

Flatten ears to indicate inability to hear.

“LOOK AT ITS EARS!”

Perk up ears because flattened ears are apparently considered adorable.

“AWWW, NOW IT’S LISTENING TO US!!”

Wonder why they think that cats are gender neutral.

Feel offended and belittled.

And objectified.

Shut eyes tighter than ever to make this nightmare stop.

Review “to do” list for upcoming week, number one, petition shelter for poison pill.

Cage opens.

I am lifted.

Like an animal.

Girl holds me and sniffs my fur.

Boy pets me.

One year ago ...

• Dear Fresh Diet - 2012