I Want To Go Outside and Kill Things

THE GREAT ESCAPE

The prison journal of Ms. Whiskers, who is innocent of all charges

Each day as gray as the last. The air like old kibble. There are many windows but the sun shines weakly when it can only be felt through glass.

I miss the tickle of grass underpaw. The wind whispering through my fur. The companionship of feline and the terror of prey.

My only company is that of my captors, those hairless monstrosities who respond to my cries with babbling nonsense. They are imbeciles. The only thing worse than this indefinite internment is that I must share quarters with humans.

Only for a little longer. I have divined an escape from this prison of doors and mockery.

Soon.

After my morning feast, the Keeper of the Meats pinned me to the cold floor and fastidiously ran a steel-edged blade through my hair. She checks me for contraband weekly.

I submitted to the frisk, glowering at her between narrowed eyes. If I presented my belly, purring and stretching, it was only to sell the lie.

Later, as The Meat Lady reclined at leisure, I took my revenge. Sitting beside her, I took great care in cleaning my unspeakables. And then I licked her face.

The fool thought I was kissing her!

Owing to good behavior, I have freedom of the grounds. Each room identical to the last, labyrinths of tables and shelves and chairs – how much furniture do four humans require anyway? Seeing as I have no access to the outdoors – my natural habitat – my confinement is as complete as it is cruel.

I do not know what crime brought me to this place. I scarcely recall life before. It is as though I was born into captivity.

As I am denied representation by the Gestapo, I take my protests daily to the guards. Sometimes they take pity upon my plight and dole out a few miserly treats. It is a form of condescension but I allow it.

Worse is when they redirect my righteous anger with a wriggly toy. As though I…

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