Bored.  Bored.  Bored.

The extreme level of boredom I currently feel should be illegal.  Leaving me alone for extended periods of time should also be illegal.  Two weeks and counting!  If he’s gone much longer then damn the consequences, I’m going to start shredding pillows.  That’d show him!

The stupidity of humans never fails to annoy me.  For a species so allegedly advanced, they can really be quite thick.  I mean, yeah, sure, they’ve had it drilled into them that cats are solitary animals but, well, you’d think by now that they would have cottoned onto the idea that we do actually like to have them around.

For amusements sake...  Of course.

Oh, and also because they provide far more edible food.  Just because my ancestors existed on a diet of things caught by their own paws doesn’t mean I want to.

Yuk.  I couldn’t think of anything worse.  Mice provide entertainment.  They do not, however, provide sustenance.   Contrary to what Charlie the Cemetery Cat tries to tell me.  Poor Charlie, I think the amount of time he’s spent alone amongst the tombstones has addled his mind.  Some of the things that come out of his mouth are quite ludicrous.  According to him, once you’ve tried rodent, you’ll never go back.  Personally I’m of the opinion that he only says this because he’s common.

Unlike I.

Siamese could *never* be considered common.  Far from...

// I knew I was special, even as a kitten.  Unfortunately the thugs that took over the abandoned warehouse (to this day I’ve never been able to work out why we were slumming it...) where we lived didn’t seem to care.  They...

They...  Tortured and killed my family...  Sometimes in my dreams I can still hear my mother wailing.  It’s a cross I share with him.  A nightmare here or there.  Twitching and whimpering in our sleep.  I worked out very early on in the piece that a carefully aimed paw (claws retracted, of course) to any exposed patch of furless skin manages to wake him.  It’s the least I can do...

Anyway, I digress, the thugs were going to kill me too when suddenly a car came screaming through the double doors to the warehouse.  Imbeciles that they were, the thugs turned their weapons on the car and swiftly got gunned down for their troubles (and, gosh, wasn’t that a pleasant sight...).  One, fat oaf of a thing he was, landed on me when he crashed to the ground and I thought I was going to suffocate under his weight.

I was near my last breath when suddenly the oaf got flipped over and a man crouched down to check the guy’s non-existent vital signs.  This completed, he noticed me and immediately presented me with more proof for my ‘humans are stupid’ theory.

"My, what have we here?"

As succinctly as possible in the circumstances, I told him that what did I fucking look like?  An elephant?

He merely laughed, muttered that I was a talkative little thing and scooped me up.  I flattened my ears in preparation for a fight but then noticed that the man had the most beautiful eyes...

They reminded me of my mother’s...

I relaxed a little in his hand and was busy telling him of this fact when this other moron appeared, took one look at me and promptly added more proof to my theory.

"What have you got there?"

By now I was beginning to pity their lack of knowledge and kindly replied that I was a Siamese cat and my name was Geisha.

This, for reasons unknown, seemed to cause the pair of them untold mirth.

"Trust you to locate something that whinges more than you," smirked the newcomer, clapping my new friend on the back

"Go fuck yourself," replied my friend amicably.

This exchange of  apparently witty banter I was soon to learn was one of their ways of showing affection for each other.

Out of nowhere another car then arrived and out of it got an elderly looking man that all but screamed at me ‘bull dog owner’ (for he had that look about him...).  He noticed me and scowled.

"Mr Keel, put that flea-bitten animal down and secure the area."

Flea-bitten!  How dare he!  Nasty old git.

"Yes, Sir."  Instead of being placed on the ground I found myself being sunk deep into the enveloping warmth of a leather jacket pocket.  "Three bags full, Sir."  I heard him add under his breath as he started to ‘secure the area’ (whatever the hell that meant...)

"Malone said put the cat down."

"Whoop for Malone.  What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him."

"Come off it, Malone knows everything."

"Yeah, our very own taller version of Yoda.  Besides, the cat’s our only witness..."

"Chris...  Don’t tell me you’re thinking of keeping it."

"Maybe...  What if I am, anyway?  We could hardly leave the poor little thing here."

I listened to them speak for a while but the warmth of my cocoon and the gentle undulating motion of Chris moving about soon put me to sleep.

I woke up after an undisclosed amount of time and it was like I’d never been asleep.  They were still at it.  The only difference being that we were now in a car, moving along at speed.

"You’re really going to keep it."

"Yep."

"I never knew you were a cat person."

"Well, contrary to your opinion on the subject, there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.  The fact that I like cats being but one of them."

"Fine.  Whatever.  Like it’s anything to do with me anyway...  What are you going to call it?"

My ears pricked up at this and I started to squirm.  My name is Geisha, I wailed indignantly to no avail.  The only acknowledgment I received was to be pulled out of the pocket and plonked unceremoniously by Chris onto his lap.  My indignation quickly died as he absent mindedly stroked me as he spoke.

"God, I don’t know.  Got any suggestions?"

"It should be something oriental."

"Yeah, I suppose.  You’ll have to help though because all I can currently think of is ‘Chop-Sticks’ and that isn’t exactly stunning!"

"Er...  I’m drawing a blank too.  All I can think of is the author Yukio Mishima..."

"The one that committed  seppuku?"

"Uh-huh."

"Charming name for a cat.  Which part of his name were you leaning towards?  ‘Yukio’ or ‘Mishima’?"

"I didn’t say it had to be either, now, did I?  Anyway, you could always abbreviate it."

"To ‘Yuk’!  Wonderful suggestion, Sam!"

"Mishy..."

"Mishy?"

"Why not?"

"Why not indeed.  I like it."

I didn’t.  Not particularly.  But still, new life, new name...  I decided I could live with it. //

That’s how I came upon my current life.  I live with Chris and allow him the delusion of believing that he owns me.  Silly boy!  I tried for a while to tell him that he had more hope of finding Koi carp in his sink than he did of actually *owning* me  but gave up when I recognised the true depth of his delusion.  Fortunately I am fond enough of him to humour him.

Okay...

Maybe I’m a little more than simply *fond* of him.  Maybe.  Cats profess to loving nothing but themselves but I suppose he comes a close second.  And, yeah, Sam comes third.  I have no choice on that matter.  I see nearly as much of him as I do Chris.  It’s like they’re attached at the hip.

Well...

Er...

Perhaps not the hip exactly...

But I’ve most definitely seen them attached.  The first time I witnessed this peculiar... ah... *coupling*... I thought Sam was hurting Chris (if you’d heard the noises you would have come to this conclusion too...) and leapt in, claws out.  I landed on Sam’s back and received the most extraordinary reaction for my troubles.  To this day I’ve never seen him move as fast as he did then.

The noises now only ever come from behind closed doors.  Not that they need to worry about me interfering again.  I’ve learnt that particular lesson.  Besides, it appears that whatever the hell it is they indulge in is quite pleasant because they always reappear in the most wonderful of moods.

To each their own I suppose.

I prowl around the house relentlessly.  My level of boredom is so extreme that I can’t even harness enough enthusiasm to indulge in a few of my favourite things.  All of the evil socks (I swear they were ready to stage a coup) have been rounded up and slaughtered.  The mere concept of wriggling out my cat-door and going to tell the fat cow (I dislike the woman intensely.  She feeds all my good food to her own mangy moggy and gives me No Frills cat food...  Can you believe it?  Nasty old troll...) next door to feed me is totally foreign and not worth the energy.  I can’t even be bothered jumping on top of the stereo and having a nap (I don’t care what Chris says, it *is* the best place to sleep in the entire place...).

Boring!

Reluctantly submitting to self pity, I wander over and retrieve my ‘security blanket’ (some funny looking undergarment that Chris thinks he’s lost...) from beneath the sofa.  I knead the soft satin for a few moments before dragging it over to the entrance and settling down on it.

Call it feline intuition but I suddenly think that he may be home soon...  I begin to purr in anticipation of this being true and sink into a light snooze.

To my utter delight, I’m right, and wake a little while later to the sounds of movement and oh-so-familiar voices outside the door.  My first thought is ‘brilliant!’, however, this is quickly followed by ‘oh shit! I can’t look like I actually care’ and I take off in the direction of the living room.  Skidding around the corner, I slide over a glossy magazine on the floor and come to an abrupt halt as I hit the leg of the dining table...  Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers and I jump on top of the table.  I have barely settled down in mock sleep when the door opens.

Phew!  Made it just it time.

"Mishy!  Ah, there you are!"  Chris bolts over and scoops me off the table.  "Are you pleased to see me?"

Of course I am.  I’d rather wear a vinyl collar than admit it though.

Following close behind him is - what a surprise - Sam, who looks at us with an expression of bemusement.

"You know, sometimes I reckon you love that cat more than you love me...,"  he says with a laugh.  Tickling my ears as he speaks.

"What do you mean *sometimes*?  Of course I love Mishy more than you...  She never picks on my housekeeping!"

My two favourite humans laugh in unison and I purr in happiness.  I mean, seriously, how could I not be fond of these two?