My Pet Humans by Samantha Grace Juengerman

Translated from Meaow to English by B. Leann Juengerman

“In ancient
times, cats were worshiped as gods; they have not forgotten this.”

– Terry
Pratchett

Chapter One

“If cats could talk, they wouldn’t.”  – Nan Porter

Afternoon guard duty: today’s mission is patrolling the outer perimeter of the back yard in search of the enemy. 

Mice have moved into the woods behind the fence, and they must be kept from seeking food or shelter inside the house. It must be kept secure at all costs, and it is my sworn duty to protect it. 

There’s movement at the fence line, so I dart into the bushes nearest the gate. My black fur blends nicely into the darkening shadows of late afternoon. I breathe in the cool air, and I’ve caught the scent of the little beasts. Creeping alongside the fence, I pick up the trail of the one mouse brave enough–or stupid enough– to cross under the wooden fence and into the yard. I will not have it roaming the house, scaring the humans, or stealing our food. 

I follow the scent through the grasses, only to discover the trail growing cold where the vermin must have snuck back to the woods. 

“Good,” I huff, mostly to myself. “You’d better not be on my property.” 

As I stand, considering the option of scaling the fence and going after it, I hear a new sound coming from the center of the grassy area. I whip around, and I see him. It’s that stupid bird. 

He gives one of those trilling, “Wheet, wheet, wheet!” sounds.

All thoughts of mice are gone. Now, my target is that bird. I highly suspect, although I can’t prove it yet, that he wants to take over the world. 

And if anyone is going to rule the world, it’s me. 

Under the cover of the shadowy bushes, I sit frozen, observing his every move. He turns his back to me, so he must not know I’m here. Paw by paw, I creep closer to him, giving me better access to an opening between two branches. I can see more clearly from here, and he still doesn’t seem to have noticed me. 

“Caq, caq, caq, caq,” I say quietly, trying to imitate the chirping of a bird as I set my haunches into a launch position. A small breeze blows across my whiskers, and I hope it doesn’t carry my scent to the bird. If he thinks I’m still in the house, this could be my chance to catch him and take him in for interrogation. And possibly dinner.

Slowly, quietly, I place my front paws on the soft soil beneath the bushes and prepare to spring. I must be patient. Timing is everything. 

He cocks his head, a sure sign he’s listening for me. He looks at the house, pecks at something in the grass, and looks up again. He turns in circles a couple of times, still shrieking, then stops. He goes back to staring at the house. 

This is perfect! He thinks I’m inside. Surely, if I catch him off guard from this angle, he’ll be taken unaware. 

I remain in position for a small eternity. Making sure he feels safe, I finally move toward the target. Inching out of my way out of the hiding spot, I’m careful not to move too quickly or snap a branch. Thankful for the soft grasses under my feet, I creep steadily, step by step, in silence. 

It’s time!

I pounce. 

“Ching, ching, ching ching!” I’m betrayed by the bells on the collar around my neck.  

He hears it, spins around, and we look each other in the eye. It’s only for a second, but it’s enough to give him an advantage. With all my might, I push off my back legs into a giant leap for the attack, but he launches straight into the air, and he’s off. 

I fall on solid ground and look up. He’s made it to the tree. 

“You think I can’t get up there?” I spit out. 

He just laughs. 

That makes my fur stand on edge. I muster every ounce of energy I have and race towards the tree with the bells still jingling around my neck. I start to follow him, and just before I reach the tree, I’m swept up into Megan’s arms. 

“Samantha Grace!” she scolds. 

“No!” I meow angrily. “What did you do that for? I almost had him!”

“Didn’t I tell you not to go chasing birds? They have families to take care of.” With that, she takes me toward the house. 

“No!” I mew, but she just keeps walking. Looking over her shoulder, I glare at the bird. “This isn’t over!” I hiss. 

“Ha ha ha!” he chirps back at me, laughing. The audacity!  That must be why Megan calls him a “mocking” bird. 

I hate him. 

Megan slides the screen door open and carries me inside. She takes me to the living room couch, gently dropping me onto it. She scratches my head, trying to make me feel better about the bird, like that should make things alright. 

I scowl at her. “I can’t believe you let that jerk get away!” I mew angrily. “He’s up to something, you know!”

Unfortunately, Megan doesn’t speak Meaow, so she grins, rubbing my head and ears, and calling me “Good Kitty.” She strokes my fur, and sits next to me, rubbing my back, then looks at me with those big, green eyes. As usual, my heart melts. I want to stay mad at her, but I can’t. She’s just so darn cute. 

I sigh, giving in, and reach up to kiss her nose, and we rub our heads together. I guess, being a human, she just doesn’t understand how dangerous birds can be. 

Even though there are four humans in my house, Megan is my favorite. I allow the others to stay so they can keep her company any time I’m on guard duty. Megan is fourteen in human years, and she’s pretty tall for her age. At least, she appears to be compared to the other females that come over to play with her. The fur on her head is long and brown and curly, and the claws on her hands and feet are red. They were green, but she changed them to red a couple of weeks ago. 

She’s such a pretty human, but sometimes I worry that she’s not all that bright. She doesn’t chase her food, she runs away from spiders, and she obviously doesn’t understand the dangers of birds. On the other paw, she’s a lot of fun and she likes to play a lot. Her favorite game is where she takes a paper and a pencil and this little toy that she likes to tap on, and she draws these ridiculous little drawings. I think she calls it Advanced Algebra. Sometimes her playmate, Karlie, comes over, and they’ll play it together. They can sit and play that for hours if I let them. Then they take their game to someone named School, but I’ve never met her. She’s never once come to visit Megan.

Megan gives me a nose-to-nose kiss, and she rubs my head. “You know what? I might just get you a little sister or brother to keep you company while I’m at school,” she says. “How would you like that?”

“Uhm NO,” I mew. “I’m good enough on my own. I don’t need help.”

“Everyone needs a friend; isn’t that right, kitty?” she asks.

“No,” I repeat, quite adamant about not having another cat in the house. “Now pet me.” So she does.

We sit there for several minutes. I’m purring and enjoying life when I notice something odd. The back of Megan’s hand is covered with small, blotchy spots; it’s like a bunch of tiny bruises.

“Where did that come from?” I mew, but she’s getting up to go to the kitchen. I follow her and see Mom is cutting up some vegetables, and Dad is cooking human food. The smell is spicy and sweet, and something is bubbling on the stove.

Mom and Dad are the adult humans I allow to stay in the house. They’re alright. They talk nice to me and pet me sometimes, but they don’t do anything fun. They do things like making human food together, but they only make enough for the humans. They never make my food for me. Megan does. Other than that, they mostly just sit in the living room watching the TV box.

 “It looked like a pretty fancy piano,” Mom was saying. 

“What piano?” Megan asks. 

Dad makes that “ha ha” sound of laughing. “Your mom’s been spying on the new neighbors next door,” he tells her. 

Mom pops him with the towel and makes the laughing sound, too. “I was not spying!”

“There’s a new family next door?” Megan asks. “The Schneiders finally sold their house?”

“Yeah,” Dad says, draining something into the sink. “I haven’t seen them yet, but your mom says they have expensive taste.”

I sit next to my food bowl and wait.

“I just went to meet the new neighbors,” Mom explains as she tosses the salad, “but the furniture movers said they’d gone out somewhere and wouldn’t be back until later this evening. But yeah, some of their stuff is very high-end. They have a beautiful baby grand piano.” She pauses for a moment and adds, “I hope they aren’t wealthy snobs.”

“I hope they’re totally wealthy and have a cute son my age!” Megan says, and the adults laugh. I like that sound. It means they’re happy.

I go over to talk to Megan. Since she’s wearing shorts, I’m careful not to claw her as I reach up and place my paws on her leg to get her attention. “I’m ready to eat now,” I tell her. She looks at me and laughs. 

“Dinner’ll be ready in a few minutes,” she says. “Be patient.”

I smile. She’s such a good pet. 

Pulling my paw away from her leg, I can see where my paw was. How did I do that? How did I leave a paw-print on Megan’s leg?

I check my paw. There’s no dirt or ink or anything. That’s weird. 

“Hey, dinner’s almost ready,” Dad says. “Can you get the plates down, Megs?”

“Sure,” Megan says. I huff at Dad. Half the time, he can’t say Megan’s name correctly. Sometimes he gets it right, but sometimes he says, “Megs,” or “Honey,” or even “Snickerdoodle.” I have no idea where he gets those from. They don’t even sound like the word ‘Megan,’ but at least she responds to him.

Megan takes out the flat food bowls and places them on the table, then switches on the TV box on the other side of the room. I watch her go to the pantry door, and I can’t help smiling. Megan pulls out a small can. Lifting the lid on it, she goes and uses a human fork to scoop my dinner into my bowl, and I purr with pride. Megan is one of the best trained humans I’ve ever seen, and I’m the one who trained her. 

“Jake’s at practice,” Mom says as Megan goes to get her own food, “so save some for him.”

“It doesn’t matter how much we save for him,” Megan says. “He’ll still eat a sandwich before he goes to bed.”

Mom chuckles. “Probably, but be polite. Save some spaghetti for your brother.”

Megan rolls her eyes.

Jake is Megan’s littermate, and he is the total opposite of Megan. Since they’re littermates, that means he’s also fourteen in human years, but he is big and rough. He never feeds me, never gives me tummy rubs, and eats all the time. One of his favorite toys is a brown ball-thing with white laces on it. It doesn’t look like a real ball. It isn’t round and it doesn’t roll much when I swat at it, but he likes to throw it and catch it. His other favorite toys are the ones in the basement. They are bright, silver things. He’ll pick one up, play with it, counting to eight or so, and then put it back on the floor. They make a loud clanking sound when he puts them down. Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that adult humans have such an unnatural attachment to their offspring, I’d have given Jake away years ago. 

Actually, we did try that. His parents gave him to a place called Summer Camp a few times, but they must not have liked him either. They brought him back a week later. The same thing happened when we sent him to Football Camp.

Megan places my food bowl on my food mat, and I sniff it.  

Oh, good. It’s tuna. I love tuna.

The humans place food on their flat food bowls and sit down at the table. For a few minutes, we all enjoy our dinners, and I enjoy listening to the conversations. 

“Oh, Honey,” Dad says, and I notice he doesn’t always get Mom’s name right, either. “I went to pick up that jacket today at the dry cleaner’s, but they were already closed when I got there,” he says. “And I was there fifteen minutes before they were supposed to close!”

“Oh, well, that’s alright,” she says, waving her hand in the air like that would take care of the problem. “I can pick it up tomorrow afternoon on the way to my meeting. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m just saying that the customer service there is awful. We need to get a new dry cleaner.”

“Gee,” Megan says with a sly drawl in her voice, “I’m going to be driving soon, and if I had a car, I could have gone to pick stuff up at the cleaner for you, ya know.”

Mom stifles a laugh, and Dad looks over at Megan. “You’re in 8^th grade! It’ll be two more years before you can drive.”

“But Dad, I can get a hardship license,” she says.

I stop eating long enough to go closer to the table, because I want to hear this. I’m not sure if Megan is kidding or not, but Dad is way over-protective when it comes to Megan.

“The mere idea of having you or your brother on the road absolutely terrifies me,” he tells her. 

“Da-ad!” Megan says with a mock wail. “Steven drives!” 

“Yeah, and Steven’s in college,” he says. Then he adds, “Plus, I’ve seen Steven drive. He terrifies me, too!” Mom laughs at that.

Steven is Megan’s other brother. He’s from Dad’s first marriage, and he doesn’t come to visit us that often. He lives in a place called College. I’ve thought about getting Jake to go there, too.

“Besides,” Mom adds, “you don’t need a license now. You have enough to do with honors classes and dance practice.”

“Well, yes,” Megan says, but then she changes tactics. “But if I got a hardship license, I could drive home after dance practice all by myself!”

“Even if we had a hardship that allowed you to get a license,” Dad says, “you still can’t get one until you’re fifteen. You’re barely fourteen.” The sound in his voice seems to settle the issue.

Megan slumps back in her chair, defeated.

“What are we ever going to do with these twins?” Mom asks Dad.

“We could put them up for adoption, but I don’t think anyone will take them.”

“Very funny,” Megan says, but she doesn’t sound amused. Maybe that’s because we both know that if it were up to Dad, Megan wouldn’t be driving until she was thirty!

The talk changes to something else, and I decide I’ll save the rest of my dinner for later. I stroll over to lie down next to Megan’s feet and enjoy listening to them talk and joke with each other. The TV box is going on in the background, but the humans are barely acknowledging it. There is a story on the box about some humans who can’t seem to get their business working, but the male and female are falling in love. I have no idea why they even turned it on.

I yawn and stretch, but a tiny little sound that makes my ears turn. It’s coming from the living room. I trot in and see nothing amiss, then go to the window to look outside. It’s a human couple walking their dogs. They’re on leashes, but I watch as the two dogs jump and nip at each other, playing games and talking. They laugh and tease each other, and then the humans start laughing, too.

For a few moments, and only a few moments, I wonder if Megan is right. What if we did get another cat?

No, that’s not a good idea. I’m a loner. I’ve been protecting Megan since I was a kitten, and I’ve done that all by myself. I don’t need any help. Maybe dogs and humans need to be in groups, but I’m fine. I have Megan, and she’s all the family I need.

I flick my tail and return to the dining kitchen to finish dinner, but I don’t even reach my bowl before another noise catches my attention. Through the window in the back door, I see them! 

There are birds on my grass!

“We’re being attacked!” I tell my humans as I sprint to the door. “Wait here for me!” I command. “I’ll protect you!”

Being the well-behaved pets they are, they sit calmly and carry on with dinner like nothing’s wrong. 

I make my way through the kitty door next to the sliding glass door. I stick my head out, then one paw, then another and another.

Thankfully, they’re talking and chirping so much that none of them have yelled out any alarms. Pulling my last foot out, I set my sights, I get my rear in gear, and I’m ready to pounce. I run, and take a flying leap, and just as I enter the middle of the yard, a flash of black and white fur zips past me, almost tossing me to the ground.

Birds are flying, my bells are jingling, and someone is yelling! I don’t have time to see the dog who is attacking me, or if it’s attacking the birds, or what is going on! I turn and run back towards the house, jumping onto the safety of the picnic table on the back patio before I stop to look around.

What the rat was that?

Chapter Two

“One cat just leads to another.”- Earnest Hemingway

From the top of the picnic table, I can hear the laughter. Startled, I look around, and I’m amazed to see that it’s not a dog at all. It’s another cat!

“Ha ha ha ha ha! That’s right, you stupid birds!” says the other cat–the one standing in the middle of my yard. “You’d better leave!”

For a moment, I’m frozen in place. But when he turns and looks at me, I explode. Jumping off the table, I march over to him.

“And just who are you?”

He cocks his head to the side and stares at me. He doesn’t apologize, or explain himself, or even get mad at me. Instead, he smiles at me. He actually smiles at me!

“You must be the cat I saw here last night,” he says. 

“Most likely,” I hiss at him. “After all, I’m here because this is my yard!”

“Maybe, but this is part of my yard now,” he hisses back with a bit of an attitude. 

“How is this part of your yard when this is my house?” I snap.

He stands up to his full height, and I take a step back. Like me, he’s a tuxedo cat: black and white only, but he has a mostly white face except for the black, human-looking goatee beard on his chin. That is intimidating enough, but what’s worse is the fact he’s also twice my size.

I look at my house, then back at him, then back to the house. On the one paw, I want to go in, but on the other paw, this is my property, and I’m not going to simply let him have it.

Slowly, I gather my courage, take a step closer, and ask, “Who are you?”

His bright smile returns. “My name’s Ninja,” he mews. “I just moved in next door.”

“Then stay next door!” I say through gritted teeth. “This is my house and my yard, so get out, and don’t come back!”

He opens his mouth to say something, but I turn and bolt back to the kitty door, jumping clear through it in one leap, landing in the middle of the kitchen, and sliding across the floor almost straight into the water dish. I turn, but he’s not following me. 

“Are you alright?” Megan says, and she comes over to check on me.

“What are you doing, you dumb puppy?” says a voice. Jake’s voice.

Oh, great. Jake’s home, and he’s laughing at me.

“Hey, don’t call her that,” she says as she heads to the sink.

“Yeah,” I mew.

Stupid human. How can he compare me to one of those bone-chewing, tongue-wagging, saliva drooling canines? Humph…

I glare at him, flick my tail with all the swagger I can show, and walk back to the kitty door. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of getting upset, thank you very much.

I peek out the kitty door, but I don’t see the other cat. Good. I slip back outside and take a look around. I go check out both sides of the house, but he’s definitely out of my yard. As he should be.

I sit on the picnic table for a few minutes, watching and guarding my yard, but he doesn’t return. I look around, feeling more relaxed, and I think I’ll go in. Besides, the wind is beginning to feel chilly, and my new fall coat isn’t as thick as it should be yet.

In the kitchen, there is still a lingering smell of tomatoes and spices. Strolling over to finish my dinner, I see Jake and Megan talking. Mom and Dad must have gone into the living room to watch the TV box. Megan’s cleaning the dishes, and Jake is sitting at the table, eating again. That boy eats so much!

I ease over to my bowl to enjoy a bit of my leftover tuna, so I can’t help but eavesdrop on their conversation. 

“Yeah, fine,” Megan says, washing out a bowl. “I get that, but I just don’t trust her.”

“Hey, I don’t see you dating anyone, so I don’t think you’re the one to give me any advice,” he snaps, clutching his fork like he thinks it’ll escape from him. 

What is going on?

Megan rolls her eyes. “She’s friends with some of the girls on the dance team,” she says, coming over to sit next to him. “I’m just telling you what I’ve heard them say. That’s all. I just want you to be aware.” There’s a kindness in her voice that Jake doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Ok, thank you,” he says with a sarcastic snarl. “Fine. I’m aware. Now stop listening to rumors. That’s all they are– rumors.”

“But Jake…”

“But what?” he says, standing so suddenly that the chair makes a scraping noise so thick it makes me jump. “I’m not going to quit going out with her just because you heard some rumors.” He stomps over to the sink and dumps his plate, not stopping to put it in the dishwasher like he’s supposed to. 

Oh, they’re talking about that girl he likes.

Megan watches him, but she doesn’t sound very sorry when she says, “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.”

“Stop trying to help me,” he growls. He turns and wipes his hand on the dish towel and walks out of the kitchen. 

Megan stands up, and I see her rolling her eyes again, adding an “Ugh!” sound. For whatever reason, she fishes the dirty plate out of the sink and rinses it off for him. She’s much kinder than me. I wouldn’t have done it. That’s his job.

She places it in the dishwasher, folds the dish towel, and leaves. I follow her to the living room and straight to the staircase, so we’re probably going to go play Algebra. 

“I’m tired, and I’m going to bed,” she tells Mom and Dad as she’s passing through. 

“What?” I mew. “Bed?” After all, the sun is just barely down.

Mom looks at her watch and raises her eyebrows, but then she says, “Okay. Good night.”

“Good night, sweetheart,” Dad says, looking at her for only a moment, too engrossed in the story on the TV box. 

I glance outside at the still falling darkness, knowing it’s still a little early for bed, but I follow Megan anyway. We go upstairs and into her room. Grabbing the nightclothes from the floor, Megan sits down to put them on. 

I walk over to her and lay down, flipping to my back. “Tummy rubs now, please.”

With a giggle, she reaches down to rub my tummy. Then she scratches me under the chin, and I close my eyes and purr. She goes back to rubbing my tummy and pats me twice, and I open my eyes. 

I stare lovingly at her. She’s so funny, and she’s just so darn cute! Her long, curly brown fur falls over her shoulder and down her arm, and…

I see her arm. That’s not good. There is a big discoloration between her elbow and her claws. I jump up to examine her further, but she’s wriggling around too much for me to take a good look. 

“Sit still,” I instruct, finally managing to get her to lie down. Before I can really look at the bruise–at least I think it’s a bruise–she reaches over and turns out the light next to her bed. Now I can’t really see anything up close. 

I suppose I’ll examine it tomorrow. Cuddling up next to her, she holds me close, petting me on the back, slower and slower, until she falls asleep.

***

“Mewr,” I think and flip over to stare at the ceiling. I’m not tired yet. The sun hasn’t been down that long, and this is usually my play time. 

I nudge Megan to see if she wants me to stay, but she is deeply asleep. 

Good. I can sneak out of her bed and go downstairs. Quietly, I cross to the door, and now I’m free!

Shooting out the door and down the stairs, I come to a screeching halt in the living room to look around. Mom is watching the TV box, and Dad is reading. These two are so boring!

Next, I shoot through the kitchen and out to the back yard. First, I check to make sure that other cat is gone, then I search for birds. They’ve probably gone to their nests for the night, but you never know with birds. They might be up to something. 

Squirrels? Maybe I can go find some squirrels, but they don’t seem to be out either. I sit and wait, but there’s nothing going on back here. 

I’m going back inside. I have some toys in the room at the front of the house. There’s a big cat lair in the corner of that room, and that’s where everyone puts my toys when I’m done playing with them. I might even get out the little orange ball and chase it around the house for a while. Good practice for taking on mice. 

I enter the room and am surprised to see Jake sitting at the thing called The Desk, playing on the computer. Beside him, there is a plate with a half-eaten sandwich on it. I smirk. Megan said he’d probably be eating a sandwich before bed.

He taps and taps on the computer, playing some sort of game, I suppose. I jump up to see what he’s doing. He ignores me and keeps typing. The computer is warm and has a humming sound that is very relaxing. I rub my head and jowls against the side of the screen, but it moves the screen a little bit, and he gets mad. 

“No, kitty,” he says, swatting me away with his hand. 

“Fine,” I mew, and I sit down to watch. Over and over, he taps on the computer with his fingers, placing small symbols on the screen. After a few moments, he stops to pick up the papers lying next to the computer. 

Since the nights are growing colder, I decide to enjoy the warmth of the laptop, so I sit on the keyboard, soaking in the heat computers always seem to produce.

“Hey!” Jake says. 

“What?”

“Get down you stupid cat!” he yells as he picks me up and dumps me on the floor. “I have to finish my history paper!”

“Well,” I mew, and I put my tail straight into the air and walk away.

I seriously consider clawing him on the ankle, but instead, I head to my cat lair. It’s a big construction thing in the corner of the room. The upper levels are covered in gray carpeting, and it has a scratching post, a hiding room, and two sitting spots. The bottom level is covered in my toys. I decide to take one of them to Megan, but I’m not taking one to Jake. He was mean to me, and Megan wasn’t. 

I sniff around, looking over the toys, and I choose the fluffy little mouse toy. It’s black and white and has a tiny red collar. I sniff it over and pick it up with my teeth. I take it to the living room and show it to Mom. 

Placing it at her feet, I look at her. “I have a toy for Megan!” I sing as loud as I can. 

Mom looks down at me. “Oh, how sweet. You found your Snoopy doll. Good kitty.”

I smile. She’s proud of me. 

I’m glad she’s pleased. I tried bringing her a dead mouse once, but instead of accepting the gift, she screamed and ran! I couldn’t believe it. And after all the battling I did to catch it. Then she and Megan both fussed at me, and they told me never to bring them anymore dead mice. I have no idea why. For now, I assume it is best to only bring them toys. 

Someday, I’m going to bring them that stupid bird from the backyard. 

***

It’s morning. Although my eyes are closed, I can tell the sun is coming through the window. I start to roll over, but the noise-maker beside Megan’s bed begins to buzz. That means she’ll be getting up soon, so I stand up and stretch, totally arching my back, stretching my legs and flexing all of my claws. After a few moments, a hand comes out from under the covers and makes it quiet. I sit up straight and wait for her to pet me, but the hand disappears back into the folds of the sheets. 

With my nose, I push back the covers to see if she’s awake. 

She’s not. 

I sigh and go back to my spot at the edge of my bed and lie down again. After a few minutes, the sound maker goes off again, and I trot back over to her. This time, she peers at me from under the blanket, then reaches up to scratch my head. I purr, and I give her a kiss on the nose to let her know it is time to get up. 

“How’s my sweet girl?” she asks, but her eyes are closing again. 

I rub my jowls against her hand and purr some more. Then suddenly, she stops!

“Hey, you need to get up!” I say in Meaow, but she’s asleep. It takes the noise-maker three more tries to wake her up. Finally, her hand comes out and she pets me on the head, and I twist my head so she can get that itchy part just behind my left ear. 

Ahh!

“Oh, look!” she says, picking up the stuffed mouse toy. “You brought me your Snoopy! You are so sweet, kitty.”

I sit up straight, delighted. 

She shoves the blankets over, and so I jump to the floor to get out of her way, and now, we start our morning routine. 

First, I get tummy rubs. Next, Megan puts on her fuzzy, fake feet and her housecoat and goes to the People Room, where she closes the door. I wait patiently outside until I hear the sound of the flush, followed by the sound of running water as she washes her hands. She opens the door, and we head downstairs together. That’s when she gives me my food and water for the day, followed by two treats. After that, she is allowed to go back to her room so she can get ready to go see School, and I go out for morning security check.

Before she can begin her chores, Megan takes a glass, fills it with water, and takes a drink. I look over at my water bowl, and it’s a little low. 

“Mewr,” I tell her. 

“I’m coming, your majesty,” she says.

Cocking my head to the side, I wonder why she calls me that sometimes.  

I watch her take care of the water dish, then she puts the dry food in my bowl. Then out of nowhere, she pets my head and wanders off. 

“Hey! What about my treats?” I ask, but she continues to go upstairs.

See? Not the brightest human. 

I huff and go eat my crunchy food that she always gives me for breakfast. I don’t want to overeat, so I take just a bit, then sit down to clean my paws and consider going outside for morning guard duty. 

I hear someone walking toward the kitchen, followed by, “Hello, puppy!” I turn, and Jake is standing there, still in his T-shirt and pajama pants. 

“You’re so dumb,” I mew at him. “My kind was worshiped in Egypt, you know.” And with that, I flick my tail at him and go outside. 

The first rays of morning sun are warm, and the breezes are cool. For just a few moments, I spread out on my back on the deck and squirm around. That scratches my back for me, and it feels so nice. Flipping back over, I know I really need to get my kitty calisthenics done before the birds come out and start messing with things. 

I decide to follow my usual routine. First, I run back and forth across the yard. Then, I run halfway up a tree, turn around, and jump back down. I do this over and over, then dive back into the grass and shoot up past the door and around the side of the house. I run back and over to the nearest tree, using it as a scratching post. 

Only after all of the exercises are finished do I stop to catch my breath. I lie in the warming sun until my heart rate stops racing. The growing breezes start to tickle my whiskers, and I know it will rain before long. I relax for a little bit, and then start the patrol. A quick sweep around the yard reveals the number of birds I have to chase off each day is going down, but that means the number of mice may very well be going up. I sniff the outer perimeters again, ensuring that the mice haven’t crossed the grassy part of the yard. So far, so good, until…

What is that?

I sniff again. There’s something new. 

That cat’s been in my yard !

My Pet Humans will be coming out soon… I hope!