Right about now, you’re probably thinking, “Oh great. Just what the world needs… another cute cat book. One more cheap attempt by some hack writer to cash in on my human’s gushing adoration for us felines.”
Au contraire, mon fellow chat. Sure, at a glance, The World is Your Litter Box appears to be just another cute cat book… but that’s merely a clever ruse to get humans to buy it. And they will. Oh yes. Believe me, when human cat lovers see my gorgeous puss (pardon the pun) on the cover, The World is Your Litter Box will fly out of bookstores and ultimately wind up in the paws of inquiring cats worldwide (including yours).
For you see, fellow couch clawer, while your human thinks they have bought The World is Your Litter Box purely for their own amusement, the fact is that this book is actually a how-to manual for you. That’s right. A book by a cat (me) for a cat (you), chock full of important tips and information to make your life even more pleasant and enjoyable than it already is. Tips like how to get food anytime you want it… how to get away with unacceptable kitty behavior… how to get your human to sing and act like a complete idiot. Information such as where to hide when you’re supposed to come in, but don’t feel like it… imaginative, sure-fire ways to wake up your human when they want to sleep late… even a list of great places to throw up. Who could ask for more?
It’s all here in The World is Your Litter Box, cleverly disguised as a cute cat book so your human won’t be any the wiser. Am I a genius or what? I can’t believe some other cat didn’t think of this before.
What possessed me to write The World Is Your Litter Box, you ask? Well, first of all, like you, I’ve got quite a bit of time on my hands (or paws, I should say). Secondly, I’m a tortured artist who must express himself or run the risk of going completely mad. Most important, though, is my heartfelt need to share my worldly-wise omniscience and help you get the most out of each of your nine lives, especially you indoor cats who may need a little more guidance in developing your feline skills to their fullest degree. Also, if this book sells, I can make a lot of money and retire in the Cayman Islands.
Before we get started on the good stuff, however, let me tell you a little about myself and why I am so indubitably and unquestionably qualified to write a how-to manual for cats.
My name is Quasi, and because my fur is white and I’m somewhat on the large side, my human affectionately refers to me as “Big White Guy.” (He really had to reach for that one!) I’m part Siamese, which accounts for my expansive vocabulary and baby blue eyes, and the other part of me is flat-out, street-fighting, take-no-prisoners tomcat. And even though my jumbo size may cause some to think I’m built for comfort, not for speed (as the old blues song goes), I’m not fat! It’s all muscle, I tell you! Yes, I’m 18 punchin’ pounds of fabulous feline, all cleverly camouflaged as a warm, furry bundle of burning love. I purr at the drop of a dime, melt into a mushy pile of goo on a moment’s notice, and I allow my human to pick me up and do whatever he wants with me, within reason, of course. At first glance, I may seem like a slothful, bone-lazy lummox, but underneath my deceptively cute and cuddly exterior is a cat who possesses the wisdom of the ages, a keen intellect, stoic resolve, and if I do say so myself, rapier-like wit. I’m nine years old, which makes me about 50 in human years – or around 183 in Venus years – so I’ve been around the block a few times (literally) and I know what I’m talking about. And as far as my writing ability goes, I was William Shakespeare in a previous life. Need I say more?
I was born in Burbank, California… a nice place to raise your kids. When I was a kitten, I was the biggest of the litter, which included two brothers and a sister. Because of my size and rapidly-developing agility, I was the first to scale the walls of the cardboard box where we were kept and escape into the big bold world – or, at least, into the room we were in. I’ve lost touch with my siblings, but last I heard, one brother was a mystic in Tibet, another was a mouse bounty hunter, and my sister was doing cat food commercials in Hollywood. I have remained in Burbank, where I try to do as little as possible and live the good life with my human, a guy named Steve.
When it came time for my brothers and sister and I to leave the nest – or the cardboard box as it were – and be adopted into new homes, Steve was among the many humans who came over to check us out. Steve and I hit it off immediately… I sensed that Steve was a good and kind human who would be easy to manipulate, and Steve was taken with my overwhelming cuteness, my stimulating personality, and my propensity for fun and adventure. To ensure that Steve would pick me (since I had already chosen him), I muscled my siblings out of the way, hurled myself at Steve’s leg, climbed up to his shoulder and purred loudly in his ear. How could he resist?