Abused? Taken for granted? Take your pick. As your dog, I’m saying I’ve had enough. I work hard for your love. It’s my nature. I can’t help myself. I do everything for you. I chase balls, take you out for long walks, lick your face, demonstrate constant affection…. But the cat. The cat does nothing, NO THING. She eats. She sleeps. She barfs hairballs on your pillow. She doesn’t come when you call. Yet you adore her. You stroke her back. You shower her with love. And for what? She’s a cat, for chrissakes. I’m going to kill the cat.
I don’t normally talk about such things. We cats need to be discreet, you understand. But truth be told, I’d scratch his face off given half a chance. That butt-sniffing canine of yours is an embarrassment. He barks, drools, smells, begs. He’s nothing but a servile parasite. Need I say more? Yet, you call him loyal, faithful, your best friend. It makes me sick. Look, I’m loved because of who I am. I don’t have to do anything for it. You pet me when I give permission. Begging is so beneath me. Enough said. Go away. I need my rest.

Jim Woessner is a visual artist and writer living on the water in Sausalito, California. He has an MFA from Bennington College and has had poetry and fiction published in numerous online and print magazines. Additionally, two of his plays have been performed in community theatre.

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