Teaser: The most important thing about me goes first: I am a cat. Not a dog, I repeat, a cat. I can't stand dogs, they're funny-looking, and they're unpredictable. You never know if the dog you are staring at is going to charge or walk right on past you. My owners think I'm scared of everything, but I don't think that's true. I don't like any big things. Small things are always better, they're not scary, they're not loud, they're small, and under your control, so you don't have to worry about getting freaked. Other cats? No, thank you, I haven't seen any to tell you the truth. Or more like I can't remember seeing any except for my brother. I live indoors, and I choose to live that way. I'm openly welcome to go outside as I please, but ever since the neighbors moved and took their patio chair with them, I've decided to spend my day on the bed, or the cat tree, or the couch, or the floor. But now, I will continue with my most recent experience.
You will not believe where I have been in the last week. I've gone to the underworld and back again! My owners put me there. There were ceiling-high stacks of junk, and it was disgustingly dirty down there. The ground was hard, cold and grey, and I heard mice scuttling around behind the boxes. After what felt like 5 hours, my owners opened the underworld door. My brother ran out immediately, but this time, I was more cautious. I didn't want to end up in another hellhole. After realizing that on the other side of the door was my home, I immediately raced up the stairs and into the younger human's room. Here's a picture of me so that you can get a better idea of who I am.