Feline Fetish

I'd love to be a cat. A big, fluffy, well-fed, foot stool of a cat. I'd walk around the living room as if it were my lion's den--and everything the light touches would be my kingdom. I'd be the Cat King. I'd stretch and yawn all the time (more than I do now), lay in various cat yoga stances (for hours on end), and hiss at creatures and things I don't like--no need to voice my disapproval, a hiss would suffice. I'd go looking for sun spots on the ground outside to rest my pampered body, and only look up if the offering of catnip was on the horizon. But even then, I'd wait until my owner would come down to pick me up from my slumber and take me to my food. I would only ever show love when I needed some good old rubbing. I figure that's a fair deal: you get some of my sexy eye glances and maybe some purring, while I get some much needed massage therapy--a simple quid pro quo. Then tomorrow, I'd do it all over again.