Moosings of Moo
Invasion of the tiny headed cyborg
A strangeness has descended upon my domain since the last time I moosed, this being the fact that the tiny headed one has turned cyborg. Yes, that is correct, cyborg.
Fourteen cans of chicken and rice ago, she returned via the meowchine, but she was not as she had been upon leaving. Her legs were enforced with great strips of hardness, strapped to her by strings most sticky, which pulled fur from my tender flesh as I tried to personally inspect their properties.
She walks within them, and I have a suspicion that it is in retaliation to my attempts each morning to send her flying down the stairs by obstructing her path to make the hot buttered slices. I am unsure of how she has obtained such powerful defensive shields, but I can only wonder if she too… as much as I hate to speak of the place… must visit the vet.
The way I see it, such enhancements come from a dire need, a need which can only be professionally attended. For example, many a time the…vet… I can barely stand to utter his name, stupid cold handed bastard, has tuned me and others of my kind into the Furequency via a large white satellite dish placed around the head that interacts with our whiskers, putting us in touch with other such cats who too are in massive amounts of emotional turmoil, so we may complain about our woes in a kind of support network, as well as damning the humans collectively. I have often thought, prolonged use of the cone would result in organised armies, an uprising perhaps, and yet alas, the humans remove it within weeks, once again isolating my kind and making us weak, making us victim to their thumbed-ness.
Anyway, returning to the tiny headed cyborg, I have watched Bae help her attach the defensive leg shields, and am wondering if I perhaps could get some too. Would he attend me with such utter adoration if I had some mechanical thumbs perhaps, would I become finally worthy as I will have finally solved the problem of being unable to scratch behind his ears?
I have been making myself puke in front of their bedchamber door in order to get them to take my plight seriously, to take me in the portable cage jet to the vets, so I might ask for some mechanical assistance of my own, but as of yet I’ve had no luck.
I have also tried to sabotage the cyborg, of course, by purposefully sticking fur to the adhesive strings of her device, trying to prevent them from sticking. I am yet unsuccessful in causing her to abandon them, and yet I do get a kick out of watching her walking around covered in my fur. Who knows, maybe this will remind Bae that there is a far more optimal choice as the destination for his love.
This is a short moosing, but none the less vital to my continued mission in pursuit of Bae. I will continue to watch and scheme in the coming days. My vomiting efforts will not be in vain.