My name is Muffin and I am a muffin-coloured Persian cat. I think that it is time to share with you everything that I know about life with humans.

It is not because I say so, but, in truth, I am simply gorgeous. All the twolegs at my house tell me so many times a day. I am four years old and I live in a house that is built on top of some kind of gigantic sandpit which the twolegs call ‘desert’. Mum is always complaining – she usually says that “this city built on the desert is going to be the end of me” and that “there’s sand everywhere”. To be honest, I have looked everywhere for sand but have only found a bit of it in our garden – and they do not usually let me out so that I do not eat the plants. I promise that the only sand in the house is the one in my tiny toilet. In fact, my house only has slippery floors and some carpets (which, I may add, are ideal for claw-sharpening). I cannot understand why the twolegs not only do not try them, but also even tell me off when I do it:

— ¡Take that cat off the carpet!

That is one of Dad’s favourite lines. He reminds me a lot of those mangy dogs barking on the streets whenever he says that. Dad and I do not get along so well, but I would be truly sad if he ever left, so there is no way I am giving him away to another family. I accept him as he is. Dad does not spend a lot of time with me. Sometimes, when he is watching TV, he rubs my belly with the tip of his foot, which I enjoy a lot, although after thirty minutes it just gets annoying and I leave. So, overall, we are not together for long periods of time.

I do not understand the problem he has with carpets, especially since I come from the same place as them. I only know that if I want to scratch my claws on one of those “Persian carpets”, I have to do it when neither Mum nor Dad see me.

Mum and Dad are my two big twolegs. Dad is the biggest one of all and has the strongest voice. He is also capable of purring at night louder than I can. When that happens, Mum usually wakes up and kicks him because she cannot sleep, which is an inconvenient, since I usually sleep at the end of their bed and more than once I have been kicked by accident.

Mum is a lot smaller than Dad and the hair on her head is long, thin and has a darker colour than mine. I cannot compare it with Dad’s because he hardly has any. I suppose Mum’s hair bothers her because every morning she takes her hair and makes something called a bun (not the one the twolegs eat) on top of her head. Then, she gets ready, puts on two of what they call shoes and leaves the house on top of them. Actually, all of my twolegs wear them.

Furthermore, I also have two smaller twolegs. Together they are called siblings, but separately their names are Peter and Molly. They are ten and twelve years old respectively. Peter is exactly the same as Dad, only smaller and with a lot of brown hair on his head. Meanwhile, Molly looks a lot more like Mum, especially her voice. I can never tell which one of them is calling me. The two siblings have no problem with me scratching my claws on all the carpets, beds or sofas (which is where the twolegs lay down to sleep or sit to rest). I also use those a lot.

My house is really comfy and my twolegs do not give me hell – apart from when they cuddle me too hard or when they pet me when I do not want them to. Whenever that happens I have to flee elsewhere to continue sleeping, which is one of my favourite things to do in my routine. I eat when I am hungry and I sleep when I am tired. If I want to sleep in the living room, I sleep there, and if something annoys me I move to a bed and carry on with my nap. My favourite bed is Molly’s because it is full of stuffed animals and I have discovered that when I sleep between them, the twolegs cannot find me easily, plus they give me comforting warmth when I sleep near them.

I have very good manners, so unless I am busy sleeping, keeping watch or hunting insects, I run to my twolegs every time they call me. Mum says that I am a cat-dog and that she has never seen anything like me before. I simply think that we the Persian cats are much more polite than ordinary cats. Peter says that I am a very posh cat, but honestly, I do not know exactly what he means.

Among my favourite places are high spots, but I only go there occasionally because I use them mainly to control my territory. It is extremely hard work and I end up exhausted, but somebody has to look after the house and, as all felines know, the twolegs cannot be trained to do this, so we have to do it ourselves. I suppose you do not believe that those drooling dogs look after homes. Those lousy animals! They go around making everything dirty with their massive paws full of dirt, they eat and drink while scattering everything around, they throw themselves at the couches and beds as if they were jumping from the top of a building… In conclusion, they are filthy, careless and lazy. Prrrr! Thinking about them gives me the chills.

I am really happy about having twolegs with me and, even though I do not like to be disturbed when I am resting or when they pet me too much, I get sad if they leave me alone at home. Many times Mum and Dad begin to use those things they call luggage. When that happens I get very nervous because I already know that they are going to put inside a lot of those fabrics they put all over their bodies and will be out of the house for a long time.

It has to be said that the poor twolegs hardly have any hair. Almost all of them only have hair on their head, but others like Dad do not even have it there. They are more hairless than those ordinary street cats; therefore they are obligated to wear other materials to keep themselves warm. I cannot imagine how awful it must be to walk around without a generous amount of soft, silky hair covering your body. Prrrr! How horrible!

As I was saying: when the luggage goes around the house it means that I am going to be home alone. At first I love it because there is nobody to disturb me or making a fuss, nobody wants to cuddle or grab me, and nobody tells me where I can scratch my nails… It is paradise on Earth. After a few naps and strolls around the living room, I begin to feel a bit lost and start to look around for my twolegs as if they had been locked away somewhere in the house. The twolegs lock themselves quite often in many parts of the house, but for the moment they have been able to free themselves without needing my assistance.

Another clue that lets me know that they will be gone for a long time is that Ratna only comes for a while during the morning to feed me and clean my litter box. After a few minutes of small talk with me, she leaves and does not return until the next day. Ratna is not one of my twolegs, meaning that she does not sleep at my house. She comes during the morning, talks to Mum from time to time, Mum talks to her too sometimes, Ratna talks to me and the same happens again every day. I have never spoken to her because, honestly, she does not say anything interesting... Only the typical “hello, hello!”, “kitty, kitty, kitty”, and all those classical phrases that many twolegs say to our species.

I have to point out that Ratna is from a different family, so another cat probably takes care of her at home. She comes from a faraway land called India. It is a whole different country. I am not sure, but I do not think she goes to India every day to sleep because Mum took her home one day and she did not take that long.

Mum brushes my hair every day. She always talks sweetly to me while she brushes me and tells me that I am incredibly handsome and that I will be even more good-looking once she finished, but the truth is that I do not care and if I could I would escape before she could even take the brush out of the closet. Do not think that I do not like to look neat, no way! But my hair is very thin and, which causes it to form huge knots more often than not. So when the knots get caught in the brush it pulls my hair so violently that I get so angry that on more than one occasion I could not help slapping Mum with my paw. She does not get mad and even apologises, but she still continues brushing me as if nothing happened. Humans can be tremendously stubborn. They are really hard to train because they always do whatever they want to.

Every now and then they take me to a place to which we need to take a ride in the car to get there. There, they give me a bath and style my hair. I chit-chat with fellow feline colleagues and catch up on life, but we have to be careful because there are also those disgusting, drooling dogs around the place. Sometimes some annoyingly loud birds show up, screeching and squawking as always. I even managed to see strange creatures with long, green scaly bodies with crests on their heads like chickens that hardly moved at all. I actually do not know for sure if they were animals or plastic toys.

Sometimes, during those visits, a twolegs dressed in green grabs me and places me on a table. That is when I start to shake because that usually means that he is going to stick a needle in my delicate butt. I am so frightened that I do not move until he releases me. Afterwards I run near Mum and she holds me, squeezes me a bit too tight and says gibberish to me that I sometimes cannot understand because it is neither in human nor cat language. Then, she always gives me kisses and we go home. Kisses are very odd things that twolegs do with their mouths instead of giving each other licks like every reasonable cat would do.

To go to the bath house, I already told you that we have to travel by car, so, of course, you are wondering what that is. Do not worry. I know that human ways are slightly strange, but I hope I can explain them bit by bit. Well then, a car is as if they put you in one of our pet cages we use to travel, but bigger and makes its own noise. Humans get in, sit and tie themselves with a rope. Apparently, the car will not move if all humans are not tied with those ropes (or at least that is what Mum tells Peter and Molly). After all that, the car leaves them wherever they want to. It is not so bad, but I do not feel safe in a place where everything passes by so quickly and you do not have time to smell anything at all. Also, sometimes you move to one side, then to the other, suddenly you abruptly go forward, then backward… It makes me dizzy. There is no way a decent cat can snooze there, but in all honesty, for me, going by car equals to something bad happening to me soon. And so far, I have not been proved wrong.

I have not always lived with Mum, Dad, Peter and Molly. Before them I had other twolegs whom I loved a lot, but they left during the morning and would not return until it was dark, so I was quite fed up with being alone all the time. One day they placed me in my cage, placed me inside the car and before I knew it I was in another car with someone who had a kind voice but I had never heard before. I had no idea of what was going on but I thought that maybe my twolegs had grown tired of me permanently being angry because they always left me alone, so they decided to leave my house forever. Could it be possible?

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