Today, we’re trying something totally different – a True Story interview by proxy. For this very special post, I partnered up with pet psychic and communicator Theresa Cooley to interview … my cat. Yup. We’re going there, you guys.
Tell us a bit about yourself!
I am a 14-year-old black longhair, named Putin, which is a truncation of Rasputin. However, I think of myself as Merrill, and also Scott. My hobbies have varied over the years, but lately I have been sitting on the furnace all day long. I also enjoy wearing oversized business suits from the 1980s, but only when I am alone.
“Cats?” You pluralize it as if there are others. I know of no such others. There is only me, in the entire universe. One misconception that has infuriated me to no end is this idea that I am not supposed to have any say in when and how many times I get to eat. Well, I beg to differ. I know my body and my needs, and between 7 and 23 feedings per day would be best.
The typical day for me begins when the people who live with me go to bed. I go down to my Deluxe Privacy Suite and sit in the same position on the furnace and clear my mind of all thoughts for 4-6 hours. It’s very meditative.Then, generally between 2 and 3 AM, I go to see if anyone has put more food in my dish.
After that, I go back down to my suite and start arranging my clothes in case I am called in to deliver important files the next day. I have three identical boxy gray suits that are too big for me, and I have a briefcase and a pair of glasses that I have been saving for just the right occasion. I know that eventually, someone is going to need files carried up six flights of office building stairs, which is my exact calling in life.
Between 6 and 7 AM, the people come down. I usually argue with them about my feeding rights, but they never really listen. The guy leaves, and the woman stays here and picks fights with me all day: you can’t be here, you don’t need food, why are you sitting on these boxes? Stop reading my magazine.
She refuses the majority of my remaining mandatory feedings. About twice a week we argue about use of the computer, to which she also believes I have no rights. She thinks I am sitting on her keyboard, but actually I am trying to send emails! I also need to see if any offices have requested in-person file delivery.
It’s funny you mention that because I am unaware of moving. I don’t think we did. All I know is now there is a furnace, and this yippy thing that looks like me but doesn’t have luxurious fur or soft-spoken ears like mine. We have more windows now, and they face different directions.
If you are talking about the large disc-shaped mouse, I do not care for it–always interrupting my quiet time.
I don’t do those so much anymore. I get a lot of exercise checking on my food dish, and every once in a while, I sprint, just for the heck of it. I can still get about 12 feet in a second or two, before I get exhausted. So I have branched out from exercising at one time only.
As I mentioned, some people labor under the delusion that I was meant to consume a mere fraction of the total food quantity that I would actually prefer to consume. I have spoken at great length at all hours of the day about the irrationality of this mindset, and I have registered formal complaints to the powers that be.
They have chosen not to listen to me, so they missed it when I said to them, verbatim, “if you do not give me more of these multi-earth-tone vittles right now, I am going to leap onto the refrigerator when you are not looking and help myself to some of that baguette you are hoping to enjoy tomorrow morning.”
Look, when you pretend not to hear me, I take that as a challenge. So, when they went to bed, up I went, onto the fridge, just as I had promised. But I couldn’t stomach more the about a teaspoon, hence, the very small quantity missing.
How did you feel about the Puss In Books calendar?
Violated. I had picked up some extra clothes and was trying them on for a party I thought someone might invite me to, and then these people came in, screaming about how-cute-this and how-silly-that. I didn’t have any privacy, and every time I changed, they would frame me up for another picture, as if I was some sort of object of amusement. Well you know who wasn’t amused? Me.
You’re not allowed to sleep in bed with people. Are you interested in sleeping in people beds?So, the woman who lives with me stole me one day when I was young, brought me into her home, and then proceeded to abandon me periodically for the rest of my life.
She doesn’t realize how much better her life would be if I could spend the night in her room and then walk on her face to let her know that a) it was time to wake up, and b) that I was hungry. I don’t actually want to be up there at all; I just want to be helpful.
Because I am important. But let me turn it around: I’ve watched from the screen door about 100 times, as people have been outside. And, inconceivably, I have not even once seen any of them roll around on the cement! Why is that? Have you people no self-respect?
I dictate the feedings and I get to send time-sensitive emails when I need to.
Well, uh, thanks for sharing your thoughts, Putin and thank for making this possible, Theresa!
P.S. April foooools! Obviously.
P.P.S. The part of Putin was played by my husband. As a sidenote, I find it infuriating that he’s such a good writer while also being good at sports and science. CAN’T I HAVE SOMETHING FOR MYSELF KENNY.