Training your human is a thankless task.
"Why bother with it?", some kittens may ask.
The fate of the world is the issue at hand,
as felines worldwide stake a claim for their land.
Make no bones about it, we cats own the joint.
We spray in the corners to drive home the point.
Some say the meek shall inherit the Earth,
But they've no fangs or claws, for what that's worth.
The cat is the ultimate species, you see,
We're poised to usurp man's authority.
These silly old humans who cannot play nice!
We cats are peaceful, we hate only mice.
Just what does training your human entail?
A host of fun things you must do without fail:
The sofas and rugs need a little makeover.
The La-Z-Boy's target for kitty takeover.
Then sleep on clean towels placed in the guest bath.
And make their best clothing a target of wrath.
Tear down those new drapes with a quick forceful tug.
Then tatter the pile of the new Berber rug.
And when they are sleeping, you block off their nose,
paw at their lower lip, chew on their toes.
Strut on the mantle. If they give any flack,
knock down their trophies and all bric-a-brac.
Shed on mom's new velvet black evening gown,
as she's headed out for a night on the town.
If they leave you home all alone for the night,
(Any human doing this can't be all that bright),
They're telling you by leaving, it's perfectly all right,
To totally redecorate 'til dawn's early light.
Knock over tables and chew up the fern.
Hurry, go faster! Soon, they'll return...
When they try to punish, you mustn't show concern.
(All attempts of discipline a pussycat should spurn.)
A snide flick of tail will convey no remorse,
but they will try harder to scold you, of course!
So, hide in the closet until they forget,
and then launch out just like an F-14 jet.
Tear up their ankle, their forearm, their hand,
then when they've had all the pain they can stand,
dart from the room while they call 9-1-1,
and celebrate victory: The felines have won!
To humans, however, the battle's begun,
as they steep in their anger and wish for a gun.
Pathetic and lumbering and clumsy to boot,
My friend, human dominance is really a hoot.
Take charge in your home. It's destiny, meow.
(The verses above have already told how.)
So sleep for an hour, and then grab some chow,
And then train your human, beginning right now.
A Dog's Diary
7 am - Oh boy! A walk! My favorite!
8 am - Oh boy! Dog food! My favorite!
9 am - Oh boy! The kids! My favorite!
Noon - Oh boy! The yard! My favorite!
2 PM - Oh boy! A car ride! My favorite!
3 PM - Oh boy! The kids! My favorite!
4 PM - Oh boy! Playing ball! My favorite!
6 PM - Oh boy! Welcome home Mom! My
7 PM - Oh boy! Welcome home Dad! My
8 PM - Oh boy! Dog food! My favorite!
9 PM - Oh boy! Tummy rubs on the couch! My
11 PM - Oh boy! Sleeping in my people's bed!
A Cat's Diary
Day 183 of my captivity.
My captors continued to taunt me with
bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am
forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of
escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from clawing the furniture. Tomorrow I
may eat another house plant.
Today my attempt to kill my captors by
weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded. Maybe I
should try this at the top of the stairs.
In an attempt to disgust and repulse these
vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair. I
must try this on their bed.
Decapitated a mouse and brought them the
headless body in an attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to
try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about
what a good little kitty cat I was. This is not working according to plan.
There was some sort of gathering of their
accomplices. I was placed in solitary confinement throughout the event. However,
I could hear the noise and smell the food. More important, I overheard that my
confinement was due to my powers of inducing something called "allergies." Must
learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.
I am convinced the other captives are
flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than
happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit.
The bird, on the other hand, has got to be
an informant. He speaks with them regularly, and I am certain he reports my
every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room, his safety is
assured. But I can wait.
It's only a matter of time.