“Where you are born is just the beginning, where you are heading next is up to you.” Tuna Egoisticus Pompousius (2008- Present)
This is the story about our cat Tuna. I have chosen to write it from his point of view so readers can experience his unique character.
Good God, no! I had no intention to stay in the streets dusty, hungry, and begging for food. That’s rubbish, absolutely rubbish. The cats around me seemed to accept their destiny unquestionably, but not me. I wanted to live a life fit for a king. I believe in hope, I believe in change, and I believe I can. A change starts with a desire that leads you to your destination.
I spotted her one day. I heard she was living in America and she loved cats. That’s all the intel I needed to mark her as my target. I approached her when she was sitting alone on the stairs in front of the house and started meowing. I got into my beauty pageant mode; used my tush as an asset, waved my fluffy tail in the air, and showed my best features to get out of the slums. I had to win this Mr. Congeniality competition. I had to make her go crazy about me, and crazy she went. Dear me!
I was starving. Once I reached my goal, there was no more need to stay skinny so I demanded food. She gave me stinky pieces of something floating in water but I refused to eat that nonsense. “We shall call you Tuna.” She said. Lady, call me whatever you wish, just give me some normal food.
I had no problem leaving Israel behind. Some of my friends scolded me for betraying the Zionist idea. God save the queen from those stupid idealists. My only idealism is Hedonism. When I had entered my new settlement in Seattle, my two American siblings welcomed me respectfully: they both jumped on the library in the living room and stayed there for a while, while I scanned my new territory peacefully.
Cushy warmed up to me and we became good buddies. He is a bit of an imbecile and needy but I found him to be a great partner to practice my Krav Maga skills that I learned in Israel. Tula on the other hand could not be in the same room with me. Personally, I don’t care much for girls with an attitude. This girl thinks she is superior because of her French “Breow”. God forbid if she would ever say “meow” like the commoners.
I have pretty much become the king of the castle and enjoyed every minute of it. My fur grew shiny and long around the neck, just like the collar of Queen Elizabeth I. I turned out to be a gorgeous cat that everyone admires and worships. The glorious times of ancient Egypt are revived in present day Seattle.
The thing in life is to never give up, no matter what life throws at you. My pleasant routine was disturbed when Zaka joined the family. Just like me Zaka was a stray cat that found a house - Mein Haus!
I do not like foreigners; they tend to take over the life of the locals and disturb the ideal life that the old residents had worked hard to build. Thankfully the neighbors just had a vacancy. Their fat, lazy, retarded cat has finally returned his irrelevant soul to the creator. They were heart broken and I was there at the right time to give my condolences. They are Christians and when they heard that I am from the Holy Land their respect and admiration to me grew immensely. Praise the lord for Jesus.
They call me Mr. Big, a much more suitable name for me, I may say. So here I am now, the one and only cat in the house. My food is served to me in a loving hand and I’m loving every minute of it. I am living proof that where you are born has nothing to do with the life you live.