1. I am in a cage and I don’t have a prehensile thumb so I can’t swipe left or right. But I do have feelings.
2. I never thought life could possibly get worse than being in captivity. In the old days people just stopped and stared at me, and sometimes little kids would drop their ice creams into my cage. I am lactose intolerant so usually my brothers and sisters would eat up the ice cream. And yes, people have always taken pictures, lots of pictures. Because I’m a friendly cat they started letting human-animals into my cage to pose with me, but I assumed these pictures would just stay between me and the person stroking my face. You know, a record of our private, special moment.
3. Lately I have been getting word that some of these human-animals are using pictures of me to increase the chances of having casual sex with each other. Rumors are vicious and I try to ignore them. Then one day a new cat moved in with us from LA. He was rough around the edges, street smart, and very cynical. I will never forget the time he barged in on me while I was enjoying the company of a freelance graphic designer from Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Bright sun poured through the bars of my cage and dappled her fine blonde hair and colorful floral print blouse. She had been taking “selfies” of us for a while and as usual I was blushing something crimson the whole time.
4. The LA cat roared. The Brooklyn girl panicked and left my cage.
5. “What the fuck, bro?” I yelled, getting up.
6. “Take a chill pill advil will,” muttered the LA cat. “I’m doing you a favor, son.” He then proceeded to explain to me how I was being exploited.
7. “Your handsome feline face is boomeranging around the entire mobile internet,” he said mournfully. My jaw went slack. I felt sick, nauseated. Betrayed.
8. We animal-animals don’t have this casual sex problem that you human-animals have. Why did you invent this notion? If only I could go back in time and eat the person who created this idea, then me and my fellow cats would never know the indignity of being treated like an accessory. To broadcast how daring and adventurous you are you’d have to do something real, like get a tattoo or smoke cigarettes or, god forbid, talk to strangers in a bar.