Of Cable & Cannibals

I realize that it's been a while since my last post, and I apologize to all of you who have been interested in following my extraordinary adventures. My friends, it brings me no pleasure to report that for the past week I've been stuck in a cable hole, from which I could neither see top nor bottom. Winter could not have gotten any bleaker than last night, when the cable landscape looked as desolate and barren as my backyard (not that I ever go out there). For the first time in my life, I was forced to watch a PBS special - all of it - and, it gets worse, it was about the Donner party.
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/donner/

Georgia & Eliza Donner w/Mary Brunner, 1850

Sick, right? Here I was, complaining about how hot it was in the apartment with my aggressive radiator hissing in the corner, and watching people freeze to death and eat each other. But, I couldn't stop watching. And, it got me thinking, which has never happened to me, so it was about as shocking as realizing that I liked the fake accents of the people reading Eliza Donner's letters. So, sitting in my 85 degree apartment I thought about how bad things would have to get for me to eat my fellow kitties. The answer came upon me rather quickly.

Harold, 2009

First, I will say that I would make a rather fetching pioneer, as you can see - and that I would most surely not have listened to Lansford Hastings and taken the "short cut" to California, because I am a kitty, not an idiot. All of that said, I realized this morning, when my owner kept hitting the snooze button and I kept crying and crying for food that my brother looked rather delicious. And as I watched him roll over and expose his tender underbelly I became famished, my mouth watering, and I cursed PBS for not only wasting my time with the preoccupations of a group of stupid people, but also for judging me. Happily, my owner soon woke up and I had a delightful breakfast of kibble. Let's hope the next few days bring with them some riveting episodes of Animal Cops to clear my brain of publicly broadcast nonsense.
Counting the hours until my next feeding, over and mauf.