Being a human sucks sometimes. Emphasis on “sometimes” but I know you feel the same way especially if you’ve crossed the threshold of childhood into adulthood. And if you’re still a child, then good for you. I’m happy for you. Genuinely. You have no idea what the Lord has done for you. Argh! I wish the grownups around me had warned me enough about the perks of adulthood and living alone. Don’t you wish so too, colleague? No I’m not talking to you, child. Having to fend for yourself, wake up by yourself, do your chores by yourself, decide what to eat on a daily basis…. Can someone borrow my life already? At least for a while while I become a cat?

What’s that face? Oh, I can’t be serious, you say? I’m damn serious! I’ve got imaginary lives and one of them is being a cat. Preferably a furry orange cat. Debbie? No, I wouldn’t want to be called by my human name. That name elicits nothing but pain and suffering. Kiki. Kiki—would be perfect.
I wouldn’t want to be a stray cat. Of course not. How then do I enjoy my vacation from the human world into the animal kingdom when I’d still have to suffer before I can eat and drink? And even sleep on the streets or cold ground. From one suffering to another? God forbid!

I would appreciate a gentle and loving human owner. One who is definitely well-to-do (I can’t come and suffer) and so depressed but unfortunately stuck in the human world that their only source of happiness is me!—their emotional support system. That will make my existence more important, meaningful and fun. I get to go unpunished for any misdemeanors and oh how crazy orange cats can be sometimes. But hey, my owner can’t survive without me so I can do whatever I want and end up been apologized to instead of doing the apologizing.

Oh Kiki, did you push the vase to the floor and it broke? I’m sorry I put it there in the first place. Should’ve placed it somewhere safe; Did you push the plasma TV down from the shelf, Kiki? My bad, I should have just played Tom and Jerry for you in peace; Kiki, you clawed and chewed on my one million Naira cushion. Oh well, next time I’ll just give you the Indomie carton like you wanted; You pooped outside your litter box, Kiki. Oh I just noticed it’s not in the same spot. Sorry. Let me pack it up; Kiki you’re sleeping in my travel bag and I need to pack up. Kiki? I guess I’ll just have to cancel my trip then; You shredded the tissue, Kiki! Aww, it’s okay. You’re such a cutie….

Just imagine that! Sheer bliss. And the many gifts my owner will give me: beautiful collars, pet grooming brush, head massager, leashes for walks in the walls of our mansion/in the park, a customized gold chain, a life size painting of me, an aquarium, a trampoline, mazes, treats!! and so much more.

Apart from causing havoc, what else do I do? I SLEEP! Yes! I nap almost all day, preferably in the arms of my owner or in their lap and only go out when necessary. Mostly when I want to get some sun on my furry fur or just want to look at humans living their miserable restless lives and shake my head in pity. I know my owner will insist on taking me to the Vet but I’m a tough girl, I can handle injections.

And when I’m in heat? My owner gets to present me with a variety of handsome Tom cats to make my pick. And I can have them all and not be called a prostitute! What an awesome life! And when I get pregnant, I receive five star treatment from my owner. My sperm donor will be nowhere to be found but who cares? His job has been done. Besides, men deposit their seeds everywhere on earth and are not held accountable. The women raise their bastard children on their own, successfully (even if often in bad living conditions). But I’d be living in the best of circumstances and not even bother raising my kittens. I can have my owner give them to rich homes for adoption.

I see you’re no longer making that face. Feels good, I know. Who knows, Kiki could even be a model or a cat brand ambassador. Oh shit, I’m late for work.