Confessions of a cat

Maybe I should have slept well that day so I wouldn't go crazy and want to go with him.

He opened the door and walked in, maybe because the small cage controlled my freedom, maybe the little friends around me were either taken away or left forever to go back to the cat.

I started to want to get out of here, and I knew it was him at a glance with so many people coming and going.

He looked at all the little ones in the cage, and then finally looked at me in the corner, wondering why he stayed in front of me for the longest time.

I saw his eyes, and what was in them made me feel reassured.

So, I took two steps forward, stretching my waist and scratching the glass door as I screamed.

He may have understood, or perhaps because of the price tag that had just been replaced.

Anyway, he took me.

When we went back to his house, he still had a cage for me, which was much bigger than the one in the store, and a lot of staples and snacks.

Occasionally you play with toys with me, and that's when I'm having a lot of fun.

Gradually, he began to talk to me, and I saw him happy, and I saw him who was lost and depressed.

He rarely held me in his arms, but more often put his hands on my head and stroked them towards his tail.

I like to rub my head against the palm of his hand, and the temperature is comfortable.

Those times together, if you use human terms, might be called - the years are quiet.

Later, he smelled of other things in him, and there were some of my things missing from the house, which I thought were all for me.

Until, he brought back another cat and repeated the way we got along.

Of course, he didn't ignore me, just that I was sad.

I started to go back to living in the store, huddled myself in a corner and just slept day after day.

I'm probably sick, or maybe I'm going to go back and wait for my long-awaited cat.

As for him, it's still the same person before I met him.