​I'm a wildcat, the apex predator, the queen of the jungle. The Agnes.

​I cannot be tamed, not by you or by anybody. I only tolerate your presence because you offer me gifts (and I need you to clean my litter). I won't do tricks for you. And I certainly won't come just because you called my name.

​I am the ferocity of nature personified, but I choose to live indoors. Because let's be honest, there is a lot of scary stuff outside, even though I like to look out there sometimes. And I sometimes even get the courage to stand on the porch, but that is a story for another day.
 
But there is one thing that can get me to forget about all of that. They are the greatest thing to ever grace my life or the life of any feline really. The one thing that will turn me into the cutest animal you ever laid your eyes upon, and it's not by choice. I'll even do a trick for them. I have no control over myself when they come into play.

It's my Kitty Kryptonite. What could they be?
 
Well, they come in many different names, but they will always be known as greenies to me.
 
They're the tastiest treats ever made; handed down from the Heavens themselves. Cat-Jesus handcrafted them to be the perfect combination of flavors, though I prefer the ones that taste like fish the best. (Seafood is good too, I won't lower myself to eating chicken or beef.)

I can hear that glorious rustling sound of the bag no matter how far away I am. It’s like a Siren’s call and I’m unable to contain myself. My little body springs into action and I go running towards that brilliant sound at maximum speed and a chorus of meows.
 
My “help” usually just drops a few of them for me to devour on the ground, which is normally something a fine Persian cat like me would scoff at, but I’ll accept greenies anywhere, including the floor.

In fact, I’m so not my usual self with them involved that I’ll even allow them to be hand-fed into my upside-down Y-shaped mouth. It’s embarrassing to even talk about, being a lady with a panache class.

​My “help” might describe me as the grossest fancy cat around, but they are just jealous I’m sure.
 
I don’t care what they say about me as long as they keep giving me greenies.
 
The next time I’ll tell you all about the run-ins with my arch rivals. They are the disgusting, vile creatures known as…dogs. Ugh, even just saying their name angers me to no end. I want to scratch one. I hate other cats too, since most of them aren’t fancy like me. But I do love kittens. I wish I had one of my own.
​
Anyway, until next time, I’m Agnes. You can look, but don’t touch.

​My name is Agnes.

​I'm seven years old, give or take. A couple of old people once named me “Chata” which is slang for flat. I guess it's because I have a flat face? Yup, I'm a smooshed face cat. A Persian, as they call us. I don't live with those people anymore, because they were too lazy to take care of me. I only require a few things from humans: feed me when I demand it and let me lay on you sometimes. It's not much to ask, but they couldn't handle it and gave me up to that crazy woman who use to cut off my hair with her demon clippers.

​I hated her house. And not just because I'm a cat and I hate everything, but because they had way too many dogs. Big ones, loud ones, spazzy ones, and even one really bossy little one. I didn't like being there, but at least the lady gave me attention sometimes. When I wanted it, of course. Which isn't very often. She did get the chance to discover something important about me though, which she passed on to my new owners the day they took me from that place. She learned of my love of strings. And attacking strings. And eating strings. And hair-ties, and cords, and anything else that looks like it's moving. I'm a viscous predator, and those strings never see me coming.

Well, I used to be a wild vicious predator, anyway. Something has changed that, but that is a story for another day. This is just me giving you the luxury of knowing who I am and where I came from. You'll have to wait to learn more about me until I'm ready to tell you.

That's kind of my thing, I guess. I do whatever I want, when I want, and sometimes I'll need you to do things for me. And if you're lucky, I might even rub my gross eyes and tiny nose on your hand or leg. Or even some important paper you left too close to the edge of a coffee table.

Back to the story for today, though. You see, my current “help” came to pick me up from that crazy lady and all her lesser animals. Can you believe that she made me use the bathroom in a bathtub?! With other non-Persian cats, too! Ugh, gross.

These people came one day, and the lady tracked me down. Not sure how she found me, I'm usually so stealth-like. And she picked me up to cradle me like everyone always does. I usually don't like that, but she had a really distracting ceiling fan. And I watched the fan. And it was spinning...and spinning. And I watched it and watched it. What was I talking about?

Oh right, “they” were there to pick me up and take me from that lady to some place new. They put me in my tiny little red prison cell and put me in their car. It was a long ride, must have been like days, I think. I meowed a lot and pushed my face up against the bars of the cell to meow even more. I wanted them to hear me, but not touch me too much. So after a year or so of driving and meowing, we get to their house and they take me out. There wasn't any carpet at all, which I use to sharpen my deadly razor-sharp claws. Oh, and to get traction when I walk.

See, I have short, bandy little legs. Which are the perfect shape for a cat, but not exactly the best for running around a slick floor. So those first few months, I spent sliding around any time I ran, or explored, or walked, or anything really. I'm mostly used to it now, but it was a rough time at first. I was so not deserving of that treatment, let me tell you.

I settled in to my new paradise soon enough, though. I even jumped up with “them” and kneaded their blanket for them before sitting someplace else on the first night. Because why would I want to sit where I just fluffed up? That's what you're going to ask me, right?

​You're weird, not me.

I'm Agnes. Next time, I'll talk about my all time favorite thing ever. Well, one of my all time favorite things ever. Greenies.