A Cat’s AutobiographyA Cat’s Autobiography

A Cat’s Autobiography

I am a white cat, and this is my story. I do not have a permanent home to call my own. My life moves from place to place, wherever fate allows me to rest for a while. Sometimes I sleep inside a small shop, sometimes under a wooden bench in a quiet street, and sometimes I settle into a corner of a house where no one seems to notice me. Every place is temporary, and every night carries uncertainty.

Like many of my kind, I love meat, and I also enjoy milk very much. Unfortunately, these things are not easy for me to find. Hunger is a constant companion in my life. When my stomach burns with emptiness, it becomes difficult to think about right and wrong. That is when I am sometimes forced to steal. I know very well that stealing is a bad habit, but hunger does not listen to morals. When no one offers food, I take small pieces of meat from a butcher’s shop or from a house where it is left unguarded. And if luck smiles on me, I drink milk that was meant for a human and enjoy it like a rare treasure.

To satisfy my hunting instincts and change the taste of my meals, I often hunt small creatures. Chicks, pigeons, quails, parrots, sparrows, and other birds sometimes fall into my path. Still, nothing gives me more satisfaction than hunting a mouse. I cannot explain why, but the moment I see a mouse, something stirs inside me. A strange anger rises, and I cannot rest until I catch it. Only after that does my heart feel calm again.

However, despite my courage as a hunter, I have my fears. My greatest fear is dogs. I have never harmed them, nor have I ever teased them, yet they seem to hate me for no reason. The moment they see me, they start chasing me and barking loudly. Their noise freezes my blood, and I am left with only one choice: to run as fast as I can. Often, I have to climb a wall or jump onto a tree just to save my life.

Humans, too, have many strange beliefs about me. Some proudly say that I am the aunt of the lion. If that is true, then my so-called nephew is very rude. He has never come to greet me, and even when I pass near him, he does not bother to acknowledge my existence or ask how I am doing.

On the other hand, there are humans who consider me unlucky. If I cross their path while they are about to travel, they see it as a bad omen. They believe that some trouble will now come their way. Such thoughts make me angry and sad at the same time. I wish they understood that these beliefs have no truth in them. I do not bring bad luck to anyone. I do not harm anyone.

If there is one thing I fear more than dogs, it is human children. They often treat me cruelly, thinking it is fun. When I fall into their hands, my suffering begins. Sometimes they throw stones at me, sometimes they pour cold water over me, and sometimes they even beat me with sticks. I endure as much as I can, but when the pain becomes unbearable, I am forced to defend myself. That is when I chase them and try to bite, not out of anger, but out of fear and pain.

Despite everything, I do not hate humans. I only have one simple wish. If humans would occasionally give me something to eat or drink, it would be a great kindness. If they showed me even a little care, I would never steal again. I promise that I would remain loyal to those who look after me.

I ask for understanding, not fear. I ask for kindness, not superstition. If humans treat me with compassion, they will find me gentle and faithful. They are welcome to test me.

I ask for understanding, not fear. I ask for kindness, not superstition. If humans treat me with compassion, they will find me gentle and faithful. They are welcome to test me.