Did I Mention That Already?

When I’m really bored and no one is around to have their feet attacked, their toes nibbled, their shoelaces undone and unraveled, their ear licked, their nose bitten, their lap climbed, their back attacked through a kitchen chair, their computer keyboard danced on, their stacked papers scattered, their office used as a hiding place, their ankle grabbed as they walk unsuspecting through the living room or past the hanging bed covers, their phone charger cables chewed on, their CDs tossed onto the floor, their leftovers stolen from the kitchen table (not that I would ever do that, you understand, you do understand that, right, that I would never do that, especially since the man swatted my face that time and made me hate him for the rest of the day, or at least five or ten minutes, until he really worked on getting me to purr again, which he does by dragging that stupid blue-eyed mouse around the floor so fast I almost can’t catch it, but I’m really fast, so there’s nothing I really can’t catch, so I put up with it and chase the silly thing and he laughs and I guess we’re friends again, or he thinks so anyway), or even to just have a nice, friendly, fuzzy, odd-colored cat sit on their lap and make them feel wanted, when all of that is going on, or should I say not going on, I wonder what a cat should do with all that free time that could be filled with reading, if I knew how to read, or writing, if I knew how to write, which I will soon because I’ve been watching and I know how to use those letters in front of the bright screen to actually make words and sentences and even whole stories, or planning a trip around the world, which is actually pretty funny since I haven’t even taken a trip around the whole yard yet, but I will as soon as I can sneak out that door, or maybe this one, which will happen as soon as I can getup the nerve to try, because once you try, then you succeed, and then I would be actually out there, in the yard, and not in here where it’s safe and … boring, because there is nothing to do, nothing at all, which brings me back to my original question about what a cat should do at times like this, and I find that the thoughts run through my head without any stop, as though I could just write, and write, and write without end, if only I knew how to write, which I will soon, did I mention that already?