?

Log in

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Adventures of a cat slave

Arrive home at 5pm

Your master welcomes you back to his domestic holdings with a meow at the top of the steps. You come bearing a bag of his favorite victuals. When you reach the second step you bow your head so he can sniff the top. Then he lets you pass.

You fix him his supper of chunks of meat in delicate broth. While he noms, you go take a shower to rid yourself of the odors of the human world.

Seated at 5:30pm

You leave space for your master in the comfy chair so he can lay next to his slave while the television news lulls him to sleep with stories of human suffering and feline indifference. A dog food commercial makes me wake for an instant. You turn the channel immediately.

Rushed meal at 6:15pm

It's a little canister of chicken and dumplings soup. He eyes your every bite. You often offer him the tip of the spoon dipped in gravy/sauce but he ignores it. Still, his glare leaves you feeling guilty.

Sneaking off at 8:30pm

The slave pursues art to impress his master--writing stories of Ulthar and such in the bedroom. Master is sleeping, no doubt dreaming of the real Ulthar.

Checking on master at 9pm

Still asleep. Why does he not howl for late-night treats as is often his want?

Sleep time at 9:15pm

You revisit the den and lift your master from his chair. He insists you carry him while you turn out the lights and set him on the bed.

Brief hand kowtow at 9:20pm

The master demands his slave extend one hand so he can rest his forepaws upon it and purr with delight at this show of submission. He turns his back to his slave while remaining on-hand as it were.

Show of Edible Affection at 9:30pm

The master murmurs, a subtle demand that the slave prove his affection with delectable hard treats offered in the darkened living room. Not at floor-level. Treats must always be served on a little plate on the table.

Longer hand kowtow at 9:50pm

The master returns! Again, the hand kowtow is performed. The master permits some massaging before he consents to close his eyes and rest.

EBS emergency at 1am

The master's sudden onset of EBS - Empty Belly Syndrome - means that the slave must get up out of bed, navigate dark passageways, and open up a fresh pouch of slaughtered calf and chicken. In broth. Master noms. Eerie purring fills the kitchen.

Bring me entertainment at 3:45am

The master's cries awaken his dutiful slave. But no, the master does not want victuals but rather entertainment. So the slave stumbles into the living room to where the master hides in his favorite box fashioned from the finest Corinthian cardboard. Fresh tissue paper, in a variety of pastel colors, decorate the carpet. The master adores the sound they make when his fierce paws descend upon the paper - ahh, the crinkle brings back ancestral memories of smilodons pouncing on mastodons, who flee on prehistoric tissue paper (not pastel, which was not yet invented until a Siamese blended the proper colors in 1432). The slave kneels down and wields the mouse-upon-stick device back and forth. The master's jaw opens, revealing sharp fangs, so sharp even for a feline his age. The master's eyes are wide pools of ever-increasing nightfall.

Slave revolt begins at 4am

Oh, the slave thinks the master is too tired to notice he has returned to the sleeping quarters with a silent plea for the gods to permit him to fall back to unconsciousness.

Slave revolt discovered at 4:04am

The master has found him! The slave pretends to sleep. But the master howls in the room. Terrible howls. Then, he slips beneath the night table and begins the gnaw at books. The master knows the slave treasures these objects.

Slave revolt punished at 4:08am

The slave tries to cajole his master to return to bed. He strokes the master's forehead. But the master is only tired of impertinence. He sinks his teeth into the soft flesh between the slave's thumb and forefinger (a spot known as The Tastee Zone by Persians). The slave screams.

Slave revolt redoubles efforts at 4:10am

The slave turns on the lights. Furious, he grabs the master by the scruff of his imperial neck and lifts him to the bed. The master refuses to meet the slave's gaze. The master suffers a slight tap to the nose and the litany of his recent crimes in silence.

Exile at 4:14am

The master is sent from the bedroom. The slave stretches out in bed,

A threat at 4:16am?

The master returns, leaping on to the foot of the bed, staring a moment at the recumbent slave before leaving the bed. What dark thoughts fill his feline noggin?

Proof that slavery does not depend upon physical shackles at 4:20am

The slave cannot resist despite having the bed all to himself. He feels a terrible sense of guilt for usurping his place in the universe. He calls out to the master. Not once. Not twice. Three times, as if it were a magical incantation.

Triumphant return at 4:22pm

The master returns to the bedchamber. His purrs are great as he resumes his spot at the head of the bed. The slaves hand is cautiously put forth in submission. The master crawls atop it. And so the natural order is returned.

Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
bethynyc
Jan. 4th, 2011 04:12 pm (UTC)
Oh, so true!
m_barnette
Jan. 4th, 2011 04:45 pm (UTC)
I too am the dutiful slave of not one, but two furry masters, or in my case, mistresses. Unfortunately mine tend to fight for my attention--or the 'good spot' on the bed--at all hours of the night with a great deal of thrashing, hissing and sharp claws that, somehow, get me instead of either of them.

My icon is them when they were 5 months old. They're adults now, and far more sharp and demanding.
affinity8
Jan. 4th, 2011 06:12 pm (UTC)
I have four masters and the oldest of them wanted to chat at 2:30 a.m. last night. Ah, slavery.
rowanspeedwell
Jan. 4th, 2011 09:10 pm (UTC)
This is apparently a secretly universal situation. I thought I was the only slave to a kitteh master...
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )

Latest Month

March 2013
S M T W T F S
     12
3456789
10111213141516
17181920212223
24252627282930
31      
Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Lizzy Enger