Week 1 Storytelling: The Small Human

I LOVE little pussy, her coat is so warm;

And if I don’t hurt her she’ll do me no harm.

So I’ll not pull her tail nor drive her away,

But pussy and I very gently will play.

(traditional nursery rhyme)

~ ~ ~

            It seems I’ve finally taught the small human the proper way to interact with me.

            It’s been such a strange few years in my household…

           

            First, my longhaired human got rather fat. I couldn’t fit on her lap anymore.

            Then, both my humans were gone all of a sudden for two days. And when they came back, they brought something new with them. It was about my size, but looked like a small version of my humans.

            It was very noisy! Every few hours, it would squawk and shriek! Even when it was dark and the rest of my house was quiet, the thing would make a terrible ruckus with no regard for anyone else's beauty rest. I was very put off. 

           But no matter how annoying the little thing sounded, my humans just cooed and babbled at it like idiots. They did everything for that wrinkly creature. They hand-fed it, bathed it, rocked it. It was very high-maintenance. I kept my distance from its holding cell. It would sometimes smell foul and I didn’t like the incessant noise. 

            Whenever the thing was outside its room, it would be in the arms of my humans. It was always around…

            Then the thing got bigger and screeched a bit less, and gained the ability to move across the floor!  At first it was slow and ungraceful, and moved on four legs like me. I’ll admit, I was curious. I was not afraid of this clumsy thing, and I walked right up to it and sniffed it.

           

            But then the little creature yanked on my tail! I shrieked and hissed at the scheming beast. I ran and hid under the couch.

           

             My big humans came quickly over and scolded the small one, but they were far too nice to it for my taste. They put down some tasty morsels near the couch as a sacrificial offering to me, asking for my forgiveness. I ignored this for a while, but finally accepted.

            The small one was still on the living room floor, not locked in its cage like it should have been. So I dashed passed my humans and up to the highest peak of my tower where I watched the drooling little beast with disgust.

            Such was my life for many months. The small human was obviously of inferior intelligence to its larger counterparts. No matter how many times they showed it the proper and respectful way to treat me, it would always do something rough with me. It would thump me on the head, pet my silky fur backwards, or yank on my delicate whiskers! I received many sacrificial offerings during this time.

            The thing continued to grow. Nearly every day it got bigger! It was quite alarming.

            But thankfully, it seemed to get less clumsy and slightly more intelligent with size. Slightly...

            Now the thing can move on two feet like the large humans. Sort of. And, I must admit, it seems to have learned a bit about how I must be treated. It at least seems to be trying to show me my due respect. And it does like entertaining me with jingling objects. Perhaps its most redeeming quality is its tendency to drop scrumptious human food onto the floor for me from its tall seat at the table… Perhaps this small human can become a valuable servant, once it gains a bit more intelligence. So I suppose I will let my humans keep it.  

Pencil drawing by Oliver Herford (1911). Source: Wikimedia Commons

Author's Note. My story is inspired by the nursery rhyme "Pussy and I very gently will play" from The Nursery Rhyme Book, edited by Andrew Lang and illustrated by L. Leslie Brooke (1897). The entire rhyme is provided at the beginning of this post. As you can see by reading the rhyme, the original version is from the point of view of the toddler. I chose to write my story from the cat's perspective. I used inspiration from some of my favorite childhood movies, Disney's Lady and the Tramp (1955) and 101 Dalmatians (1961), to describe how an animal thinks about it's owners.   
Bibliography: The Nursery Rhyme Book, edited by Andrew Lang (1897).