The out of doors cats

I do want you to know that the place for which I live does have other cats. They are felines like myself, but they are a primitive version of myself. Where I possess the ability to use technology and travel between dimensions, there are some cats here who, believe it or not, live out of doors.

Yes, I know. Outside. No heat. No open refreshing water bowl. No litter box. While my rustic compatriots are lacking my sophistication, I still find them fascinating. Imagine having to find your own food, instead of having a human get it for you. It seems almost anachronistic and may be fun.

And yes, I have tried the out of doors on multiple occasions. The first one was forced upon me when one of the humans picked me up and tossed me into a large pile of white fluffy stuff. Upon further assessment, using my tongue to quickly analyze the material, I determined it was water. Yes, I screamed and I loathe to be placed in so much water without my permission.

The second time I went out of doors was of my own volition as I saw that the white material no longer was present, so I went to investigate. The humans, for some reason, made a fuss and would not let me assess the situation. Fools. I could have made sure the white material never returned, but since they chased me, I was only able to hold off the white stuff for a mere six months.

The cats that live out of doors sometimes look at me longingly through the windows of the front door, surely envious of my protruding technology and my stature. I like to lift a paw to them and lightly rake it along the window to eloquently remove their memories of myself. They are too primitive to understand the glory for which I possess.

And, I am too kind to let them suffer in envy.