Sterling /We Are
by Sterling the Cat
“Sterling looks just like the cat at your front door. It’s amazing!” Marta’s friends have said this, again and again. I resent that, in every part of me. There is absolutely no resemblance, whatsoever, and I can prove it.
First of all, Samantha, as they call the fake cat, has no real fur. I touched her, once, and she was hard. Touch me, go ahead. Feel how soft my fur is. I can even make my fur stand on end! Samantha never moves. I am all over the place, up and down, and round and round. I almost feel sorry for her that she can’t explore. Look at that silly grin. And she can’t take it off her face. I can’t smile, but I would rather have it that way. I would say that I feel more of the time like not smiling than smiling.
Open your eyes, you silly cat, and look at the world. There
is more to see than I can ever see. You don’t even know what Marta
looks like or what she does. I find her very amusing. I’m not sure,
but I don’t think you can hear, either. If I couldn’t hear I
would miss the call to eat. On the deck I like to listen to all the birds,
even the cat bird that screams at me because she has little ones in the
nest in the big tree. I need to hear Marta’s soothing, “You
are such a beautiful cat.” I can turn the volume down when she says,
“No! No! Get off the kitchen counter.”
There is no way I can see inside Samantha. My guess is that she does not have a heart that beats, like mine. In my heart are true feelings, like yours, feelings of frustration, fear, contentment, and many more. Best of all, are my feelings of love for Marta. Poor Samantha!
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