Last week, I talked about a couple of Japanese islands where cats live like kings and queens, as they were always meant to. Writing that post ignited my imagination and I found myself dreaming of my own private island and how great it would be. Provided it had a few commodities, of course.
First, I would need food. Cat grass would grow all over the place. It might give me diarrhea, but it’s just so good. And real food, like pizza or lasagna; apparently, ginger cats go nuts for the latter. I guess that means I would need humans around too. That’s fine: I like being adored, and humans would be a great source of entertainment.
Speaking of which, I’d need birds, bugs, and squirrels to chase. I am a hunter, after all, the fiercest of them all. There should be another cat or two to play with me or distract the humans when I’m tired. I want caves and dens in which to sleep; I could even hide in them to stalk my prey.
A source of fresh water would be essential. I would also need the island to be devoid of the things that give me allergies, but I don’t know what those are. Maybe there should be a drug store so I could get my medicine. I suppose I’d need the mama around to take care of me. And having the papa to keep me warm in bed would be a bonus.
And then I could lie lazily in the sun and just enjoy life. That’s pretty much all I’d need. Huh, weird. Except for the beaches, these are all things I have here. I guess this house is my own private island.