This weekend I saw the movie Gone Girl and there was this cat. The cat was everywhere, witness to all the dysfunctional behavior happening in the house—and he obviously didn’t care.
Photo by zaimoku_woodpile (creative commons). Modified by The Write Practice.
I thought, wouldn’t it be cool to write a story from the perspective of a cat? So I developed this writing prompt about cats. My attempt is below, and I look forward to reading yours!
My Practice
Ooh, there she is. My human pillow. Hunched over with her face in her paws.
Jump! She notices me for the first time when I join her on the couch, and gives me a pat. It’s not good enough. She needs to stretch out so I can rest on her chest like I did when I was a kitten.
I sniff her face—can’t ignore me now! It smells different from usual. Salty. Instead of petting me again, she wipes away wetness from her cheek. I help her by licking it.
“Fandango!” she says with a small chuckle. “You’re a cat not a dog!”
I don’t understand it when she says this. Dogs don’t help groom others. They can’t even groom themselves.
I rest my paws on her lap. She scratches my head. I close my eyes and purr. When she moves to my neck, I snuggle into her belly.
“Riiiing!”
My eyes shoot open and I dart them around the room. I’m alert, but not scared. I don’t know what that noise is, but I’ve heard it before.
“Hello,” she says. Her voice sounds strange—as if she has a hair ball. After that she says nothing for a while. I return to my position on her lap. Just as I’m about to fall asleep—
“Why are you bothering to call me? Just to yell? Just to criticize me? My God Mom, I wish—“
At this point I leap off the couch. Her body is tense, and I know it will be for a while. Soon she will be yelling at me for trying to play with her or attempting to get a better view from the TV table. She has given me the signal that it’s time for me to hide–it's the word “Mom.”
Random question today: Which version of Gone Girl was better—the book or the movie?
PRACTICE
Take fifteen minutes to write a story from the perspective of an animal. When your time is up, share your practice in the comments section. And if you share, please be sure to give feedback to a few practices by other writers.
From Leonard the mule:
I sure do wish that lady would hurry up and open my gate. The air is getting colder, so that means the fields are about to turn brown. I need to get out there, now, so I can eat whatever weeds and flowers are left before I’m stuck in the barn eating hay all winter.
Where is she?
Where IS she?
C’mon, c’mon.
C’mon! C’mon!! COME ON!!!
“Hee-haw! Hee-haw!! Hee-haww!!!”
Oo, that one got away from me a bit, but I’m really hungry. Maybe if I buck and stomp and kick up some dirt, she will see me and come out.
“Hee-haw!” *stomp* “Hee-haw!” *clop*
OK … *pant* … now I’m out of breath … *pant* … I’d better stand still for awhile and wait. She’ll be here soon. *gasp*
Of course, when I stand still, the flies are all over me. If I had a bigger tail, like Prancer over there, then I could shoo them better. Maybe if I lie down in the mud, then … hey wait!
Is that a blue coat I see coming this way from the front of the barn? Yes, yes, it is. It’s her!!
“Hee-haw!! Hee-haw!!!”
Oh, thank goodness she finally came out.
“Good morning, Leonard! How was your night?” she asks me.
Honey, you don’t even want to know. Just open the gate, and we won’t have to talk about it.
There we go, let me out into that beautiful dewy pasture. Ah, that’s better.
—
Hmm, I’ve been out here for quite a while, and these weeds don’t really taste all that good. Sure do wish I could just go in the barn and eat some hay.
Where is that lady?
As a horse owned, this is great!! Basically exactly what happens every day and night.
At least they’re predictable in that sense. 🙂
Even if they are less so in others, yeah. XD
Great note! I liked specially the part where it feels jelaous about Prancer’s tail. Well done!
Oh! I love it! Great job!
Well, you know what they say. The grass is always greener… I guess that even goes for mules! Cute way to illustrate a cliche.
Great story. Wish I had time to do one!
If I don’t get up on that counter – right now! – I’ll never be comfortable again. I’m just not feeling my round pillow. Or his lounge chair I claimed months ago. And his bed, while cushy, isn’t the same.
There’s just…something…about the counter.
It’s time to get to work.
I walk up to his ankles. He’s sitting on the couch staring at the box thing. Perfect. I was going to rub his legs to say, I’m just being cuddly and cute. But that thing makes him a zombie; I don’t want to draw attention to myself.
I walk, no, I stroll into the kitchen. Don’t mind me. I’m casual. Nothing funny going on here.
I make it to the other side of the counter. He can’t see me from here. Perfect.
I crouch down and judge the height of the counter. About four feet.
“Clyde, NO!”
Every muscle spasms and I take off to the bathroom. Damn, my tail must have swished too much, drawing his attention. Stupid thing. Why does it have to be so beautiful? I lie down and lick it for a while, mind racing.
I decide to scope out the scene. Maybe he’ll be so into his box, I can try again. Keeping my curse of a tail still, I scurry into the kitchen.
He’s standing at the counter. Why?
He places something on the far side of the counter. What is that? A lamp? Who puts lamps on a kitchen counter? And a box of books?
“Try to jump on there now where I can’t see you,” he says.
Oh, I get it. He’s blocking me. Hell no. I flash him my best, Let the best man win, look.
He catches on, saying, “Good luck,” before heading back to my couch.
While I’m cocky on the outside, my insides squirm. How do I get around this?
I stroll around the counter once, acting like I couldn’t care less. Then I head back to the bedroom to think. I make my way to the window. There’s an ant crawling across the carpet.
I normally wouldn’t think anything of it – ants don’t deserve my attention. However, an idea hits: he HATES bugs.
I’m his warning system. I can use it to my advantage. Why have I never thought of this before?
I run to the corner and stare at nothing. Crouching down and putting on my most intense face, I begin chattering my teeth.
“Oh God!” I hear footsteps clomping toward me.
Before he enters, I tear off under the bed. His bedroom has two doors: one to the living room and one to the bathroom. As he makes his way from the living room, I haul into the bathroom and around the corner into the kitchen.
“Clyde?” He’s confused. He should be – I don’t normally let bugs out of my sight. Sign of a good hunter.
I hear him looking around the bedroom for me. Perfect. I run around the counter, spring load my legs, and leap up onto the counter. The granite sucks; it’s hard and uncomfortable. Bliss.
Fun story! I like how you describe the details. Keep it going
Yep, they can be sneaky just like that. Cats just aren’t straight forward like dogs are.
nice story, Monica! Cat’s point of view are very fun to write through because they just do not care anything but themselves, LoL!
Here is mine attempt:
Darkness. No one is in the kitchen, except us. We can see a plate with four big chicken’s bones. There are a few rice grains around them.
We are waiting the signal from the scout next to the delicious treasure. He tracks all the remains of the food. Check everywhere. No humans around. He makes the signal to us.
The old general, who have done this mission since I was a little grub, takes a step forward. It is another routine procedure for him.
– Quickly! Eat all you can! Go! go! go!-
We run as fast as we can. I am one of the fastest thanks to the incredible smell of the treasure. I am the first who conquer the biggest chicken’s bone and I start to eat. It is even more delicious that I thought.
– Something is wrong…- says the scout next to me, but I don’t pay attention to him, neither my brothers and sisters. Everybody is enjoining the fest.
But suddenly, the lights are on. We are discovered by the humans, I’m frozen over the bone.
– RUUUUUUN!- screams the general.
Everybody is running in every direction, but I’m stood still, the sound of hits by the human disoriented me. I have no clue where to run.
BOOM! The hit is next to me. The scout is death above the human’s hand, I can see him bleeding, I can heard him screaming and I can do nothing.
The human’s hand is coming for me this time, and I just wait for the hit.
– MOOOOOVE, ROOCKIE! – the general runs to me and push me away. I’m falling down from the bone’s top and I can see how the human left nothing of the general.
There’s no time for tears. I must escape. I return to the gate in the wall.
———————–
A distant voice is coming from the bedroom.
– Honey! What’s going on in the kitchen? – says a Lady.
– Everything is all right!- answers the man, cleaning his hands -Damn roaches! –
For a while there I thought you were talking about cats, and I was mildly terrified when it got to the squishing part.
LoL! I played a little bit with that, hahaha! When I finished the exercise I realized that I actually cheated! hahaha! thanks for the comment
Very well done. I think I was actually holding my breath there for a minute! LOL
For real? hahaha! Great, then! I’m gladd you enjoy it
Views From My Cats
“My people call me Eli and say that I’m an orange kitty, well, I am orange bu there’s no kitty about it. You see, I am a protector cat, I watch out for my people. When they go outside I have already been there to make sure they’re safe.” Eli has plumped himself into the Kitty Loaf position between a blueberry bush and an old tree. The mulch that was nearly his color has dulled with exposure and his bright orange fur stands out in
stark contrast.
“Yes, I am orange, but you must remember that the brightly colored things in nature are often the deadliest.” His eyes narrow as he calmly surveys the world in front of him. Small insects hop or crawl in the grass in before him. Eli clearly feels that he is the master of his domain. “Not even the foxes get near here.” Eli glances over with strength in his eyes at the yard where, a few years ago, he had slapped a fox and sent it running.
“Fiercely colored and fearsome in nat… ooooh! A leaf spinning!” In the blink of an eye, Eli is up and has pounced on the errant leaf. He is busy rolling over and over, locked in mortal battle with the crunchy oak leaf.
So enthralled with it is he that he misses the fact that he is being stalked. “Oh, Elijah, I am going to get you now.” The sly greenish yellow eyes of Spots, the girl and the youngest in the pride, are closely watching as Eli rolls and spins. Spots has never been that good at stalking, but the noises that her target is making hide the little crunches under her feet.
Spots, a gray tabby, flattens herself out as best she can, her tail twitches almost on its own accord. She creeps in closer underneath the broad leafed plants along the side of the house. She blended in nicely with the mulch and the shadows. “Oh, yes! I have you now, Eli!” She said in the faintest of whispers. Her chin was nearly on the ground, her back feet started to paddle against the soft turf, tension held every muscle taught. The distance was two, maybe three bounds and she would have him tackled.
Eli rolled onto his back clutching the leaf gently in his teeth, holding the edges with sharp claws as his hind feet shredded the tail edge of the leaf. “Ah! You fiendish leaf, I have you now! Ha! HA!” He growled at the helpless piece of foliage. He sank his long teeth through the fragile membrane and closed his eyes imagining his prey now gushing blood.
Spots sprang from under the vegetation where she hid. One bounce, two bounces, and … hearing something odd, Eli released the leaf and spun as quickly as he could onto his feet! The extra flab he carried under his tummy threatened to keep him rolling. A shadow in front of him had suddenly exploded in teeth and claws and flashing yellow eyes!
“Grraahahhghghgh!” Spots snarled as she impacted the much larger cat. Her momentum and his still trying to recover from the extra belly flab knocked him off of his feet.
Skill and years of experience took over, Eli spun in spite of the claws now sunk into his fur. He twisted his feet into position to kick against the soft belly of his attacker. The roll continued.
Spots dropped her body down onto Eli to thwart his kicking feet just in time. She then pressed her long fangs against Eli’s throat making Eli screech in shock.
In a blink the two rolled in separate directions. They landed on their feet. Eli’s eyes flashed in surprise and playfulness. “Ah haa! Spots! You may have gotten the drop on me this time, but you can’t keep up!” With that he turned and darted off.
Spots grinned wickedly, laughed, and then chased after Eli.
Adorable. My cat would do the same thing with a leaf.
Thank you! Thrilled that you enjoyed it
Terrific story. Love the visuals. Cats are such interesting creatures.
Thank you!
Here’s what i could do in-between clients today.
Looking into the floor length mirror I gasped in horror. My face, covered in whiskers and fur. I blinked to make sure it was me – I moved side to side and yes, it was still me. As I looked up from my office floor, the magnitude of my problem became very apparent. I was so small – I was a kitten. Now, most people would think that being a cute little kitten
couldn’t be that bad, but when you are a high profile lawyer with clients, this
was the proverbial end of the world.
“Well Katherine, how do you like your new look now?” Boomed the voice of James
Cuttler. “I gave you a chance,” he said with a disgusting smirk on his face. “I
told you to quit whining about ethics and take the case but no, not Miss Ethical.
You made me do this to you.”
“Meow?”
Wow, I couldn’t even talk. I backed up and looked around for a place to hide.
He is so big! One foot and he could crush me. I meowed a few more times, each
one taking me closer to crying. I thought those magic thingies always let you talk! I could think like a person, reason and comprehend, but not talk. I looked up and realized he could end me right now. He could chuck me out the 14th story window and I’d end up a
splatter on the ground.
Just then the office door opened up and I heard a familiar voice. It was the night
guard checking in before leaving. Sam always looked in on me. “Meow” I screamed!
I saw him look at me and then heard James tell him I went for milk. Oh my God!
Don’t believe him! “MEOW!”
Sam closed the door and left. Smiling, James came over and picked me up, opened the
door and took me down the elevator. Once downstairs and outside he walked to
the alley and put me on the ground. The noise was unbelievable, the flashing
lights and vehicles passing by. He bent down and said one final thing. “Play
nice with the dogie”. And then he was gone.
I didn’t look behind me as I felt the hair on my back stand up. Raw fear gripped me as I
started to run for it. Only the thought of revenge kept me from giving up as I ran
into the night. I would find someone to reverse the spell and then Senator
Cuttler would get the lesson of his life. That is, if I lived through the
night.
Totally enjoyed this. Would make a great short story.
Loved your story. Cheryl is correct. This would make a terrific short story. Thanks for sharing.
“On top.”, he says.”No. On top!”
I query him with my big doggie eyes, tail wagging, “Please?”.
“Jack,” (that’s my name) he says, “You’re too hot. No. On top.”
But I want under the blanket, “Please?!” I again plead with my eyes, staring, then a couple of coy blinks, then I start using my snout to nudge my way under the blanket as I wag my tail – again. (Humans are suckers for wagging tails!)
“No, Jack. On top! You’re too hot! And besides, you make the blanket stink.”
Stink? You think I stink? You should get a whiff of your own self!
I plead by moving closer and licking his face, tail still wagging – only faster, a grin on my face. “Jack, I love you too, but you’re too hot! You’re like a heater, dog.”(Heater? What is that?)
Humph! Looking at Dad, I attempt my saddest face complete with tail droop as I move to the other side of the chair and start pawing at the blanket – I want UNDER that blanket!
“No, Jack! On top, or you can go sleep with Jordan (he’s one of my human brothers).
But Dad, your chair is soooooo comfortable! I want to sleep with you.
“On top!”, he says again with a voice that means he’s serious as he tucks the blanket around himself, “Or go see Jordan!”
Big sigh. Bigger exhale ….
“Okay,” I think to myself as I circle around his lap 3 or 4 times making sure I step on that place that makes him grunt as I resolve myself to sleeping on top of the blanket. “but he’ll be asleep soon … “
Yes! They’re clever just like that! Good job.
So true. I’m still giggling. I particularly love the line: Stink? You think I stink? You should get a whiff of your own self. So like a cat.
From Fluffy’s standpoint:
My servants call me “Fluffy”. I despise that name, it is far too generic for me. The cat next door is named Hawthorne. I would much rather have a title like that. My servants abuse me. Not only did they give me the unfortunate title of “Fluffy”, they don’t appreciate everything I do for them. For example, the other day I was outside for many moons. I had to hunt to survive that terrible time. When my negligent Old Female servant opened the door, she screamed when I offered her a piece of my meal prior to telling me I was only gone for ten minutes. How dare she! If I wanted, I could leave them. I won’t, only because of the couch in the basement. I have done everything in my power to claim it. It took ten sacred urine baths until they relinquished it unto me.
I suppose I should tell you about the horrendous conditions I have to put up with. The servant called John is in charge of cleaning my Dirt Box. Every day I must walk among my own faecal matter to relieve myself. I am forced to dirty my paws burying it, and I believe I am going to die of that Ebola disease servant Jenna always talks about.
My servants also starve me. I eat my breakfast at 10:00 am. When I come back at 10:40, the bowl is half empty. They do not refill it. I starve until the bowl is filled again at 6:00pm. Humans do not understand how the feeding ritual works. The dominant cat eats half of his food. By the time he is done, the other half has a distinct older taste and needs to be freshened by new food. Until it is re-flavored, it is inedible. The same thing happens with my water. I drink half, and by that time some of my hair is floating in it. It is my servants’ job to remove the hair or give me a new bowl of water; they never do.
There is one final thing I can tell you before I leave. It concerns the White Smelly Place.
I was doing fine, living under the porch. Really, just fine. During the day, the kids fed me Cheetos and bits of things. I’m good at turning up my nose at things I don’t like. It is lonely at night though, when the place is deserted and dark. Now and then I dine on a mouse who happens to get too close. So, you see, it isn’t bad.
Well, tonight it began to rain, and, as an aside, I hate anything wet, unless I can drink it in tongue-laps from a puddle. Anyway, it’s raining and dark. This lady comes out on the porch and says it’s raining cats and dogs, and she calls to me. My name isn’t Here Kitty Kitty, but I get the gist. I’m hungry, so I trot out readily. She is there with fish, and I love, love, love fish. As I bend my head down and inhale the lovely aroma, I am grabbed and pushed into a large cardboard box, onto which she slams a lid. Yikes! I’m trapped. Now what? I’m now moving, but my legs are still. I extend my claws and scratch like my life depends on it, which I fear it most certainly does.
We stop, and when I am through being jostled, she pulls off the lid. Ha! I have almost shredded that box to pieces. I am triumphant. It wouldn’t have held me much longer. We are inside in a strange place. I dart behind a sofa where she can’t reach me and I hunker down. I may have growled low, just a little. She calls me again and again, and even pushes a broom head in my direction. The nerve. I peek out to see she has put more beloved fish in a dish on the floor, next to a tongue-lap water dish. I am hungry, but so frightened. This may be warm and dry, but it is strange. She tells me this is my new home, and no more Cheetos for me, just fish and other things she says I will like, but I repeat: I am so frightened, the consummate Scaredy Cat. Will she care that I intend to spend the rest of my life behind this sofa?
It took a week or so, but I did venture out and found her to be fine company. She has, however, done the unforgivable. I am now a house-bound cat. No outdoors, no digging in the dirt, no fleas, and no Cheetos. This comfort, however, comes with a price. I get bathed! Bathed! In water, mind you. You remember what I said about anything wet? She says all these things will make me live longer. With baths and a cat box, and no wind in my face, why would I want to live longer? You have an answer?
“Oh geez… Here we go again. Same routine, different night… Shut up in the washroom all day long with maybe ONE outside break. MAYBE. ONE. Yeah, yeah, I know all about it. Allergies. If mom and bro are allergic to my dander, then why the heck do they keep me around? Not that I mind the digs. Lord knows I have LOTS of places to climb.
“Here she comes. I can hear her shutting the basement door and the kid’s bedroom door so I can’t go in or upstairs. They’re so lame. Don’t they realize that’s exactly why I make a beeline up the stairs when they let me in the front door late at night? It’s funny really. Chasing me back down here’s probably the only exercise they get.
“The door’s opening.”
“Hey, Twitchy. You hungry?”
“Really? Routine part one… Act like I can’t wait to get a face-full of that stinky, fish-flavored muck. Check.
“Part two… Saunter down the hallway as if I’m totally content to spend ten minutes in their glorious presence. Check.
“Part three…
“No! I’ve had it with this whole same-act-different-day” stuff. I’m just going to ignore them for a few minutes while they’re turning off their brains and reoriented their attention to that stupid noise box. They’ll forget about me in three…two…one… Check!
“Tonight the game changes. Now what can I do? Got it! Hide! But where? They know all my special spots. They’d find me on one of the bookshelves. Or behind the stereo
cabinet. Up in the window under the blinds? Naw. Tried that. Behind the cedar chest? Nope. Both ends exposed.
“Oh look! The old man left his camera case on the floor. Well I’ll be… It’s empty. There’s the camera up there on the desk. Hm… It’s almost zippered shut. I wonder if I can just…er…umph…suck in gut…tuck in tail… I did it! A nice tight squeeze. Pretty comfy, I gotta say.”
“Twitch, where’d you go?”
“I don’t see her anywhere, hon. Are you sure she came out here?”
“Twitchy. Kitty, kitty, kitty… (hachoo! sniffle) I’ll bet she’s still in the washroom.”
“She hasn’t been out today, better get her and put her out so she can run around for awhile before we turn in. ”
“Come help me find her. She might be up on top the vent again, and I can’t reach it.”
“Ahhhh… This foam interior is going to feel great on my claws. Stupid humans. I think they’re going to be busy for awhile. Purrrrrr….”
(Inspired by actual events. LOL We looked for her for a LONG time.)
Here’s what I wrote:
“Today, I’ll be meeting Brenda again; the female dalmatian of the Tijani
family. Why they gave her that name I don’t know. And once, I asked,
but got the meanest look from Brenda.
I sit culled next to Nina on the couch. Her heavily perfumed body rub
against mine. I lick my paw to wipe off dirt that really isn’t there.
Nina bends down to rub my fur. This time, it’s gentle and overly slow.
I know she’s not happy because her grandma died. I wish I could offer
her the succour she needs. I push myself up from the cushion and
snuggle close to her. She’s just like her husband; calm and gentle.
“Oh, Nutty, I miss her. I miss her so much. You miss her too. I guess,” she says, pulling me close.
Of course I don’t. The woman was a witch who battered me whenever the
family was away. She took my meaty foods and usually would give me
bones she’d ensured to rip the entire meat from.
Once, she knocked me off the couch, and yelled to everyone that it
was taboo to allow dogs into the house. What was taboo was her bitching
on a dog.
“They’re here. C’mon, Nutty.” Nina nudges me and rises to answer the bell. My heart skips.
Brenda is here.
I wish my paws could reach my head then I’ll brush my slightly ruffled fur.
Nina opens the door and….
My dog jaw drops.
I’m not astonished by the way Nina greets the Tijanis. I’m less
fascinated by the good look of their five year old son who calls
‘Brenda’ to his side. I’m not jealous the animal rubs against him.
What keeps me stunned in my position is Brenda. Brenda. My Brenda; whom I’ve not seen for seven long months.
You’re wrong to think I’m stunned because she looks charming.
On the contrary, the Tijanis have replaced Brenda dog with a Brenda cat.”