Buster is not your regular feline. Not the type that goes: meow-meow, hiss-hiss, and the whole nine yards what a cat does. That sorta thing is beneath him. He would never stoop low to be a normal decent cat for anyone. Not even for his excuse of an owner Jacob. He can’t stand that auburn funny-looking louse. That slouch-posturing, crooked-teeth, four-eyed louse! Every time he is in the presence of Jacob (that louse), somewhere in the kitchen, the living room, the study, he takes a piss on his fecking white vans shoes and hides off in the attic, covering his mouth with his paws to be really quiet and yet have a hunky-dory laugh. The kind of laugh Mr. Mutly from Wacky Races would laugh. Laughing at his demise just makes ol’ Buster swell and smile a cheshire grin.

“YOU STUPID CAT! WHAT THE FECK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

Nothing really. He just hates that orange louse. With a passion. A violent passion, that is. As far as Buster is concerned Jacob could go feck himself a terrible feck. Let Mr. Ed screw him in the ass. That Jacob and his funny looking face could just cease to exist. Let the aliens capture and probe his orange ass, a terrible probe. In other words: He can go to hell and give the devil a handy. Buster would be elated!

“THERE YOU ARE! What the heck are you doing up there, silly. Come on, get down from there, come on. Come to daddy. Come on, Buster.” Oh Christ, he found him. Buster is busted. “Come on, now, come to Daddy.” Ugh, as if.

“Meow-meow-” but in translation, what he meant to say: FECK YOU!

“Oh you stupid, cat. Come down.” Stupid is not a wise choice of word to use to call a cat, especially one that harbors such hatred towards him. For good reasons.

Two reasons. 1: He is an orange douchbag who has no backbone. And 2: He is in a relationship with Amy. Buster’s crush.

“GET DOWN HERE, YOU DUMB CAT!” Just for that, Buster takes crap on Jacob’s face, “WHAT THE FECK! GOOD GOD, NOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOO! OOOOOOOOOOHH MYYYYY GAAAAAWWWDDD!! IT’S IN MY MOUTH! AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!” Well, he should have seen that coming. Nice one, Buster.

But, back to Amy.

Buster the cat had been very fond of Amy. Fancy more like it. Ever since Jacob brought Amy over to the house to meet Buster he couldn’t keep his cat eyes off her. Her porcelain white skin. Her platinum long blond hair. Her big brown optics. Her hourglass figure. And that beautiful blue sunflower dress that she likes to wear from time to time. Makes his mouth water. And chafe in his feline privates. A Tex Avery moment. Moments, more like it. When Jacob is not home. Amy is either doing – the laundry, cooking up supper, reading a chapter of Body to Job by Christopher Zeischegg, or watching an episode of Jerry Springer in the living room – the whole nine yards of a productive day at home while Buster is under the dining room table carefully studying Amy’s every move. The way her soft hands grace the remote control.  The way she presses her cheek with her index finger trying to figure out what to watch. Probably Jerry Springer. Oh good golly, Buster could just urinate his white mess on Amy. Burst at any moment. He can’t stand it. But he must remain calm, for Amy. If he cums on her face all hell would break loose and Amy would think differently of Buster. She wouldn’t want to be associated with him after that incident, who could blame her. And she wouldn’t want to be coming around the house anymore. All thanks to Buster and his uncontrollable urge to jizz on Amy. Come on, Buster, KEEP IT TOGETHER!!!

Sometimes in the evening, while Amy is napping in Jacob’s room. Buster sneaks in – and for a long time – watches Amy sleep a peaceful nap. She’s mine, he thinks to himself, all mine. I need her, I want her. She belongs to me. In another life, where I am not some clumsy old cat. Where I don’t belong to anyone but myself. A human being of great importance. Like a policeman. Or a writer. Or heck…a gentleman who works at a bank! I wonder, I so much wonder…would Amy want me in that life? Would she take me as I am now? I wonder? But old Buster, my friend, that’s just wishful thinking. In this life it is not conventional for a woman to be – passionately – intimately – with a cat. It is frowned upon. And he knows that and it kills him. To think that his dear sweet Amy is wasting her life and body with that louse of an owner Jacob is criminal to Buster. A crime against love – real love and passion. It’s a crime, indeed – indeed. And what could Buster the cat do about it? 

Well…

Buster could do all sorts.

1: Gag and bound her up. 2: Finger her snatch with his little cat paws. 3: Brand the side of her buttocks in bold letters saying: PROPERTY OF BUSTER THE CAT. OFF LIMITS!  4: He can tear Jacob’s insufferable duck lips off with a pair of shears. 5: He can feast off Amy’s pink nipples. 6: He can lick and eat her pussy out. The possibilities are endless!

Oh golly, what a curious and sadistic cat! He has such a wild imagination. Where on earth does he come up with this stuff? It is quite MADDENING!

Regardless of all that mess. Deep down in his cat heart he knows that he belongs to Amy and she to him. And he knows in this world that he can never be with her, even if he tried. 

Some days it’s tough being a cat.