The ruler of the home

Hello. I am Mr. Wibbles, a name given to me by my 6 year old pet named Susan. If you were to see me I bet you would understand why I am the king of this home. I have short ginger and white fur that shines in the sun, (my favorite place to sleep), and my eyes are the color of amber. Most of the day I am alone waiting for my human, Elizabeth to come home as they say it, "Noon". I spend a lot of my time eating, sleeping, eating a bit more food, taking another nap, attacking the mouse that never leaves my house, (DARN YOU BARTHOLOMEW, THE MOUSE) and maybe bat at some plants (even when Elizabeth yells at me not too), maybe take another nap or eat some more food, as you can tell my day is mostly booked full of many, very very important things to do. 

“Hello there Mr,” My nickname, because apparently saying Mr. Wibbles is too hard to say, “How has your day been?” I meow in reply trying to tell her good but she for some reason doesn’t understand and just stands up to go give me a little bit more food. 

“We should really get on that diet the Vets have been saying to put you on,” Elizabeth says, The worst words in the world, Vet and Diet, I attempt to hiss but before I can I see my arch enemy, Bartholomew the evil mouse. I look in between my human and my nemesis and spring away to go and attack him. I hiss at him, batting him around his black eyes staring into my soul. But soon I lose him in battle and look around trying to find the evil mouse but I can't find him. But in my remorse from my lost battle (*grumble grumble), I see the only thing that could make me feel better, the golden rays of sun shining down on my gorgeous cat tree. 

I try to get up the tree determined to get to the highest point, the biggest spot of sunlight, but I fail falling down onto the couch. 

“Mr. Wibbles! Are you okay?” Elizabeth asks, I can tell the concern that is flooding her tone. I give a comforting meow, and get up to go and rub against her leg, claiming her as my own (Not like I didn’t before). 

“I’m going to really need to talk to Ivan about this,” She said looking back at the cat tree, I had failed to claim. 

But before the self pity could come I went over to my ‘friend’, Bartholomew who I could just imagine him laughing at me. I hope that she won’t talk about the evil vet. That's when I felt air gushing past my beautiful ears as Elizabeth gave me a tight squeeze. She sets me down after I give her a small hiss. After like 2 and 38/92 hours, Little Susan came home and immediately ran to me hugging me, squeezing me, normal 6 year old human stuff. She set me down and scratched under my chin, the best place to be scratched (Fight me, if you disagree). 

“How was school,” Elizabeth asked Susan who had a slight frown on her face. “Is everything okay?” Ah, Elizabeth, the master of comforting those who are sad. Especially me, when I’m sad because I don't have any food. 

“Some kids bullied me for Mr,” Susan said, a slight whimper in my voice. I started at her aghast that some dirty kindergartner was insulting me, ME, and bullying me sweet little Susie. 

“Oh no, what did they say?”

“They said that I had the ugliest and fattest cat in the world,” I acted as if I had been shot by a gun, How could they? I bet they even eat their crayons. I fell over from the shock showing off my fluffy belly to Little Susan who was now crying. She came over and put her face into my fluff belly causing wetness to get into my ravishing fur. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Wibbles,” Her words were distorted through the fur and tears she was crying but I could tell she was sorry, FOR NOTHING, SHE DID NOTHING EXCEPT BRING A SCHOOL PROJECT IN ABOUT HER PET AND HER FEELINGS WERE HURT BECAUSE OF IT. I was about to scratch those morons who hurt my baby, human, pet thing. (I wish I could be cracking my knuckles right now). 

“I’ll talk to Mrs. Katz about this, and you and Mr. Wibbles can run upstairs and play.”

“Ok,” She says, picking me up and bringing me up to her pink room where I say my arch enemy (Besides Bartholomew. I would never let him enter this sacred room), Cat costumes (DUN, DUN, DAA!!!) 

“Which one do you want? ”Susan was holding up a princess Merida and a princess jasmine costume. I sniffed both of them and rubbed against the bright blue one because it smelled much better than the other one, she had accidentally thrown up on it one time. She put me in it, finishing by putting the cherry on top or might I say the wig on top. “Aww look at you, you're so cute.” I give her a very grumpy expression which makes her laugh. After she dressed up as a tiger, I really feel like I should have been the tiger and she should have been Jasmine but I'm not salty, (Grumble, Grumble. I would have made such a good tiger). 

“So Jasmine,” She said, petting me with her ferocious paws. “How was your day?” I meow, telling her it was good, but also telling her she is breaking the character of the tiger in that movie. That's when Ivan gets home, I notice the door opening and the sound of his thick boots on the downstairs carpet. Me and Susie go downstairs to greet the last pet of mine you will be meeting. He smiles down at his tiger and his ferocious master in his amazing and beautiful costume. 

“Look at you too. So fancy, and so ferocious,” He looks down at us and pets me on the head.” 

“Ivan, I think I should talk to you about the little princess,” She said, dragging him into the kitchen.” Oh no. My brain was fluttering around about what they were talking about but before I could follow, My darn disobedient pet picked me up and brought me back upstairs. 

The next day I was put inside my Vet (*Grumble grumble) carrier and taken to see Dr. Smith, the dietary human at the pet place. 

“Hello Elizabeth, I haven't seen you in a while.”

“It has been a while since we've needed to come here.” The last time was late July last year because I ate some food that was bad for me. I think it was called a Twinkie. 

“Well what is Mr. Wibbles dealing with now?”

“Oh well we think we need to put him on a diet because he is having a bit of trouble reaching high places now. 

“Well that is easily fixed. I’ll print out some measurements for food and recommend the best food to help him.”

“Ok, thank you,” Elizabeth said relieved, which I don’t understand because it's not like I’m on the verge of death, I’m only 3 years old. 

Soon enough though I was relaxing at home, Elizabeth was out buying the food I needed to get healthy again. I looked back at the cat tree, bathed in golden sunlight as I waited for Susie to get home. Soon I'll be able to conquer that tree again, I thought, smiling to myself