Sam The Somewhat Crazy Possesive Cat

-2-

Oh hell. Why was it necessary for his head to be pounding? Just why. Because in his opinion it was incredibly unnecessary and just plain rude of the headache to wake him up from this wonderful dream about a mouse. Yes, a mouse. It was a wonderful thing to dream about don't blame him! 

Why did his stomach hurt so bad? It wasn't constant or he would have noticed immediately. It was more of a sharp jab every few minutes and it was very, very sore. Along with his leg now that he thought about it, just what the hell had he done last night!? 

Blearily opening his eyes he immediately shut them again, there was way too much sun in the vicinity of his eyes. Way to much, no more please and thank you. 

Deciding that a compromise was the best decision he very slowly squinted out at the world, letting his eyes adjust to the problem of too much light much too early in the morning. 

Oh, this wasn't his house. It was much too clean for that, it didnt smell either. Look, it wasn't his fault he forgot to clean sometimes! Stuff just... piled up. Alright!?

Anyways, back to the first, most pressing issue, this wasn't his house in any way shape or form. This was an issue, especially since his damn leg wouldn't stop trying to break free from its mortal chains and die on him. It was all very frustrating. 

Lifting his head he finally got a peek at the big picture, the entire room more like. It was nice enough and oh there was a mirror. That's nice. Maybe he could check his reflection real quick? See how bad the damage was. 

Nopenopenope, that leg refused, his stomach refused, his head refused, everything refused. 

Flopping back down he let out what could only be described as a cry of pain. His whiskers hurt. How the hell did your whiskers hurt!? Oh no. Fuuudge. Realization shot through him like a mouse speeding out of a cats way. 

He was a cat. He was a godsdammed cat right now. To top it all off, he couldn't even remember how to turn back. 

Well, he was in a pickle. To say the least.  

You know what? He could make the best of it. He could get up and do things! Like find food for example. Any self respecting human had some sort of meat in their house. Right? 

His only issue would be this whole getting up without screaming in pain business. That shouldn't be too incredibly hard. 

First steps first, he would have to find a way to at the very least sit in a dignified position. This laying down all sprawled out business was horribly shameful to say the least of the matter. 

So taking what could only be considered a deep breath by another cat, he started to lift his head, making sure his torso tried to follow him. If his legs followed his torso that wouldn't be too bad either. Except everything he was moving was severely against the plan. It's so hard to find good help nowadays. Can't just muscle through it can they? Have to complain with sharp jabs of pain the whole way through. 

It had taken a good ten minutes, what could be considered sweat by human standards, and a lot of huffing and puffing  but at least he was upright now. It was a much more dignified position, at least in his opinion it was. 

Taking a moment to survey the room again in what could only be majestic form he decided that his next course of action would be to get off of this couch. Soft as it may be it impeded his progress towards what would hopefully be called freedom. 

After trying to get up yet again and seeing just how useless said action was he decided-Yes it was unanimous-that his safest bet was to just topple his entire bed of blankets onto the ground. It should work, it was foolproof. The blankets provided a landing pad and everything.