Queen Shit

One of our residents, Molly, has endured quite a bit. She has been chased from her favorite places and ignored. She has suffered the quick movements of the best of friends to local cats and she has endured being picked up. The hugs she has received have been...not torturous, but irritating. She does make her complaints known, since she is so very vocal, but many of her protests over the years have gone unappreciated.

She has survived using her own means and her own abilities. It was a solitary life, cut out of much. Still, things were not so bad. She had regular food and medical benefits that came with her position. She received treats regularly with the others. She played "bird" and chased laser dots that appeared mysteriously on the floor and walls. She was required to do little, and she took joy in her solitude. Yet, one must acknowledge that Molly has suffered. She has not been granted all that she deserves.

Now, nothing happens in catland without her approval and presence. She no longer suffers the indignity of being cradled. She receives lion's share of food and attention (when it pleases her), and when Molly makes sounds, the power that is pays close attention. Nothing less would suffice.

My friend Molls has become Queen Shit.