The other day I was driving down the road and I saw my cat, Rudy. Or, should I say my "former" cat, Rudy. You see, we adopted him and saved him from getting put to sleep. Well, apparently he didn't like our house too much because one day he walked out the door and never came back inside. Of course, we still see him from time to time because he still lurks around the street on which we live. This brought something to my mind. Sometimes, I wish we were like cats. If I left my house and decided to live outside on the same street, I'd feel incredibly awkward every time a family member walked outside and saw me. What exactly is that cat thinking?
"Hi, um, I know you saved me from getting killed and all that, but...okay, your house just didn't fit my standards. The people who live there are just off their rockers. I mean, I enjoyed the free food and all, but as you can see, I'd rather get rained on, snowed on, and beaten up by the neighborhood cats than move back into that crazy loony bin which you call a house. So, thanks, but no thanks, psychos."
Haha, dumb cat. Why would you give up the warmth and protection of a wonderful home where there is free food and shelter, two ginormous dogs, a screeching parrot, and six slightly insane individuals who insist on singing every chance they get?!
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