Mewing and Shouting in the Woods

 

Prior to moving into the forest, I wasn’t an incredibly outspoken guy. I’m not the type who’ll go march in the streets in a fight for cats’ rights. For that matter, neither was I very interested in one-on-one communication with others.

A lot of things have changed since the move, though. I’ve become friendlier, happier, and more outspoken.

I haven’t laid eyes upon another feline since moving away from the town.

I’m not going to say that I’m lonely, but there is something about feline companionship that adds spark to a cat’s life. As a baby, I lived in a cage with little orange kittens and a couple of black and white ones. After being adopted by the C’s, I frequently made cat friends and foes around the neighborhood.

Whether fighting with a local tom or giving Kish Kish’s fluffy fur a much-needed bath, I have always had some socialization in my life.

So when I walk out in the woods, I’m not afraid to spread my lips wide, bare my razor-sharp fangs, and shout out again and again and again. In fact, I think maybe the deer and the poor bears trying to get some rest are annoyed by my loud meows.

Nonetheless, I do not stop meowing until I get inside. For maybe, just maybe, I’ll hear a distant cry on the breeze and will be once again assured that I’m not alone in this world.

 

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