I'm not a kitten person

A kitten came into this place and promptly decided to 'make conversation', as in pester me. The conversation ensued roughly as follows:
Kitten: What's your name?
Kitten: Hello? What's your name?
Kitten: Are you deaf?
Kitten: I heard one of the humans say you were being 'adopted'.
Me: Did you?
Kitten: No. So you're not deaf?
Kitten: Where are you from?
Me: Outside.
Kitten: Ooh, where's that? What's it like?
Kitten: I heard my owner mention outside once. What's it like?
Me: Interesting.
Kitten: Outside or me?
Me: Outside. It's interesting.
Kitten: Interesting how?
Me: It's nice and quiet.
Eventually she stopped talking to me and started staring at me. All day.
Including now.
She's asking what all the buttons are for.
I was going to write about when I was younger and my house caught fire, but now I'm too busy trying to deter her from opening Minecraft. So much for-
SHE'S CLAWING MY TAIL.
-So much for blogging. I'm just going to get off before the humans come and find me unconscious with a kitten sitting on me playing video games.

My First Hunt

Nothing much to write about here.
I'll just write up another story, I guess.

When I was a kitten, I lived as a housecat, with my mother, Asphalt, and my litter-mates. My humans didn't care much if we were outside or inside, and so my first taste of the wild was barely after I'd opened my eyes. My mother decided one day she would show us the outdoors, and so out we went (well, out she dragged us) into the grassy yard.
I should explain something. When I had seen the grass previously, from a cozy window seat, I had assumed it would be like paper, stiff and with sharp edges, and that walking through the yard would be similar to walking across a sea of pain and red-sliced paws from paper cuts. I shut my eyes and grimaced as my mother put me down on the grass- And then opened them, surprised, because the ground was in reality soft and slightly bouncy from the wet spring.
All my fears were vanquished. The daydreams of foxes and badgers turned to butterflies and rabbits, and the terrifyingly big, confusing outdoors instantly turned into a wonderful home. Obviously, nothing could possibly be wrong in this wonderful place where the green paper blades were soft.
A lump of snow that was not yet melted caught my attention next. I padded up to it, enthralled with every new thing I saw, and walked onto it. I then discovered it was freezing cold and ran traumatized back to Asphalt, who seemed mildly amused with my wailing.
Much more discoveries and surprises followed, and after an exciting journey, which thoroughly tired me out, it turned out I still had one more new thing to experience, despite it seeming like we had seen everything there could possibly be in the outdoors.
A mouse.
As Asphalt nudged and prodded us sleepy kittens back towards the house, I heard a strange squeaking. I conjured up all sorts of villainous things it could be, before realizing it must be the fabled 'mouse' my mother had described in the tales she told us as we fell asleep. She detailed how great hunters would sneak towards the mouse, becoming invisible to their prey, and, with a great leap, win their prize. This was my chance to taste the fabled creature! I fell into a crouch and instinctively crept towards the sound. Mother must have somehow understood what I was attempting, for she made no move to get me back on track towards the house.
Time trickled by. The mouse made no move to get away. It did not see me. I had become a true hunter, harnessing the ability to become invisible to their prey, silent as the snow but far deadlier.
In my excitement and pride at my incredible newfound hunting ability, I did not notice the twig until my paw had already come down on it. I froze at the sound of it cracking- So did the mouse, stopping and looking around. It saw me, and, upon realizing how close it had come to death, fled.
I would like to clarify that it had not come very close. A kit on its first day outside of its home is not a good hunter, and the chances of me hitting the mouse when I pounced were thin as a blade of grass, with the chances of me actually killing it even slimmer. But in my inexperienced eyes, I was a brave hunter who had narrowly missed a kill. I blamed it on bad luck and trotted inside, more than ready for a nap.
Now I'm in about the opposite situation.. I can hunt perfectly well, but there aren't any mice!

The housecat fraud

Something finally worth writing about.. Those human kittens that came in earlier? They came back again. Now they're feeding us and changing our litter, all that stuff, like the other humans that don't take any cats away do. And one of them likes petting me, talks to me a lot, blabbering nonsense in a high-pitched voice like all the kittens seem to like to do. Maybe she'd let me outside.

Probably not.

I can dream.

Okay, it wasn't really worth writing about. 

As I've nothing to blog about in the present, I may as well recall the past until the present becomes interesting. Ooh, that was a good line, somebody quote that. 

To jump right into the story, one day, when I was in the forest, I happened upon another cat, wandering through my territory. They had a collar, with a cute little bell and everything, so I bared my teeth and snarled at them to get out, thinking they were a lost little housecat who would run away if I said 'boo'.

He shrank back and widened his eyes, and I was immensely satisfied and assumed they would flee and I could return to hunting squirrels. For good measure, I stuck my muzzle right next to their face and did my best growl. 

They flashed their claws and hit my jaw, shoving my head aside, taking me by surprise, and leaving me with a bloody wound on my chin. For extra shame, they got in a few more admittedly good hits before I came to my senses and defended myself. It didn't work very well. They'd wounded my shoulder badly, and by the end of the fight I was too hurt to fight back at all, only limp away and know that I had been beaten.

Suffice it to say, I was slightly more polite to meek, lost housecats after that incident.

There were times when, in a fight with a stranger, I considered playing scared, as they did, using the element of surprise- But I'm much too proud to do that. It is, to me, a dishonest and cowardly thing to do, and I hold my honor above my health.

You cats think I should share some more of my old stories?

Descent into madness

Xena finally spoke to me. She told me to get out of her face. Definitely flirting, right?

She got taken away by the humans today, though. Oh well.

An old brown tom was taken in here yesterday and put in the cage across from mine. He's very meek and polite. I like him. He doesn't talk to me or annoy me or anything. Maybe we could be friends.

Some human kittens came in today. They followed the other humans around, chittering and blabbing and pointing to stuff, and then they left.

And I bit the 'bandana' off. It was getting irritating.

The only thing to do around here seems to be writing, but I've got nothing to write about. All I see is this room. This stupid room. I hate it. I don't even get into fights. There's nothing worth fighting over, and the humans shoo us apart with brooms if any of us start a fuss. 

This girl came in a few days ago. She was spitting mad at everybody. I ended up fighting with her, just for the sake of fighting, and she fought me for the same reason, except we were so similar in our angry, antisocial ways that we ended up being something kin to friends after a few more hours. It's strange, when you become friends with an enemy just because you have no reason to be enemies.

 She got taken away by a couple of old humans yesterday morning.

Nobody else here seems to be bothered by the lack of activity. That's the worst part. Most of the cats here are content with eating this food and sleeping and running around and eating and sleeping again. Nobody here's has a taste of the forest.

I would kill to taste mouse right now (I'd kill a mouse, that is).

Upate

Still here, in the shelter.

Still bored.

It seems the only thing humans can do well is shut doors. I almost got out yesterday, but apparently once you get past the door in the room all us cats are in, it just leads to another room, with another door, and getting past two doors is much harder than getting past one. The humans grabbed me and hauled me back to my cage before I could manage to escape.

One of them tied a little piece of cloth around my neck. A bandana, I think she called it. She smiled and petted me with that aww look how cute the little kitten is face I hate. I think it's just an accessory- very pointless, but it's not that uncomfortable, so I've stopped trying to get it off.

Some new cats came in. Two kittens. One was shy and scared and flinched whenever the humans went near her, while the other opened up after a bit and started playing and babbling like any average kitten. She asked where I came from, I said I was trying to sleep- She asked if I wanted to know where she came from, I said no, I was trying to sleep- She said they'd both lived in the city and 'mama went missing and we got sleepy and climbed onto a nice warm car' for a nap when a human picked them up. That was the point where I stopped listening. This is why I hate other cats. They talk.

Another cat, around two or three years old I'd guess, came in just a few hours ago. A nice tan color on her back, white on her belly, faint tabby stripes. Pretty yellow eyes. The humans named her Xena. She's the only cat here I'd be interested in talking to, but she doesn't want to talk to me. She just keeps her muzzle shut and stays maddeningly quiet.

Nothing happens around here.
Wait, almost forgot. Some onion guy wants me to describe myself. Short-furred gray tabby, green eyes, handsome.

The humans are coming back to feed us in a minute. I have to end it here.

New beginnings

My old blog was deleted. Stupid humans found out. Thought their kitten had written it as a joke (like cats can't type themselves? Hissss) and didn't have any sense of humor about it whatsoever. Apparently I'd given out 'personal information' to 'complete strangers' and whatnot. But that's in the past.
I ran away. Those humans kept putting me outside as 'punishment'. They didn't quite realize I'd rather be out in the rain and the cold free and happy than inside warm and safe and bored out of my mind.
Well, one day, after I'd attacked the dog (he had it coming), they put me outside and I never saw them again. Headed for the forest. I was free! That's the life a cat should have.
There are no laptops in the forest. Small sacrifice. I ate mice plentifully and marked out a little territory for myself whenever I felt like staying somewhere for long, and slept in bushes, trees, anything comfortable. All the ritz.
Then when winter came, it got harder to find prey, and eventually I got hungry and headed for the city, planning to just steal something out of a trash can, maybe catch a rat, and head back to where I belonged. But nope.
Stupid human took me to a shelter.
The cats were annoying, there were dogs barking all day long, and I lived mainly in a cage. Nobody got me out of there, and eventually I got put in a cardboard box, put in a car, and ended up in a different shelter. And nobody adopted me there, and I got shipped off to some other shelter.
Where I am now.
This place is better, though- There's a nice big area with windows and toys and a furry pillar to climb, and they let us in there around once or twice a day. And after I fought with a few cats they didn't let me out at the same time with anybody else, so I got glorious alone time.
And, as I recently found out, one of the humans taking care of us has a laptop. And he conveniently typed the password in front of me. So life is good.
Outside the window is a forest. I can see trees and sun and earth. I've been trying to escape from this place. I'll get out of here sometime.
If I don't get out, I'll keep posting. I've missed having a blog, I guess. Adventuring is more fun when you have someone to brag to. But if I don't post again...
It means I'm free.