Two: A New Opportunity

This wonderful one-sided relationship between me and the girl continued. I grew weary of referring to her in my head as "girl", so despite my better judgment, I gave her something resembling a name. This girl had big, dark blue eyes, and dark brown, almost black hair that went a little below her chin. She wasn't skinny or fat, but was of average weight for a human. The look of most humans' eyes when they see me is either disgust at a pest or eager to capture a "cuddly" prize; her eyes bore a look of kindness, almost respect. I suppose that it was this look in her eye that possessed me to keep returning to her. So she was no longer "girl", but "Sea Eyes".

Our routine, of sorts, was this: I would drop by around midday, and there Sea Eyes would be, waiting with a can of tuna or some chicken scraps to place on the floor in front of me - from a distance. And every day when she placed the food down, her hand would linger longer and longer. One day, for whatever odd reason, she would not put the food down. Her hand just hovered above the ground with the food in it. Past experience told me that foolishly taking the food led to capture and cages. No way was I going to let it happen again, especially in the hand of a girl, Sea Eyes or not. So I just sat there, waiting for her to put the food down. I'd already eaten a small snack that morning, so I could sit out this game of chicken as long as I wanted - I was only here for the food. Finally relenting after about two silent minutes of this, she placed the can down and resumed her usual spectator's position in the window. That's the deal with humans: you just have to show them who's boss. Of course, humans always rebel against their boundaries, thinking they're the boss. My philosophy? Ignorance is bliss.

And the next day, Sea Eyes did the same. We had another round of playing chicken, which ended up with me taking a couple of steps closer to her hand, and sitting down, waiting for my baited hook to jerk. Seeming smug, she put the food down. Too bad all cats are mutinous in the end until they go soft for the cushy life. Pretty soon, they can hardly walk, those fatties. I will never forego my ability to flee for the temporary apeasement of my tastebuds. She didn't really win. Humans are so funny, thinking cats are lesser than them. And yet, they will do just about anything for them. I admire those who have mastered the art of conquering humans, the ones who get a soft bed but outside access, the healthy, rich ones. And that thought sparked an idea: maybe Sea Eyes was my key to the high life. Yeah - the concept was so simple. Simply feign submission, she'll let me have access to her room, and then the house, and then it'll be a mere hop, skip, and a jump from my dream life. Cats are so cruel, using humans as servants, and yet humans take such joy in indulging their every need. Where's the injustice in that?