I'd like to make something clear to the reader. I find the human tendency of referring to me dismissively as simply "a cat" or "the cat" totally unacceptable. Pompous teachers and the like, oblivious to their own ignorance, are wont to believe that cows and horses were formed from the dregs of humanity, and cats arose from the dung of horses and cows. Such notions, objectively speaking, do not reflect well on the dignity of their holder. We cats are worthy of better. To the casual observer, we may seem of like kind, equal without distinction, and lacking defining traits. The world of cats, however, is duly complex, and the human phrase "to each his own" is wholly applicable. The look in one's eyes, the lines of one's nose, the lay of one's fur, and the rhythm of one's gait are all differentiators. When it comes to the spread of the whiskers, or the orientation of the ears, or the droop of the tail, no two are alike. In terms of looks, in likes and dislikes, in style or lack thereof, it's safe to say our variety knows no bounds. It saddens me that humans, walking around with their heads in the clouds, are ever blind to the plain-as-day traits and features that distinguish us. The old saying that "like minds gather" is spot on. It's the rice cake shop for rice cakes, and it's cats who understand cats. However developed humans may be, the world of cats is beyond them. To make matters worse, humans aren't, if the truth be told, as remarkable as they think they are. And for fellows like my master, void of compassion and unaware that intimacy begins in mutual understanding, the cause is lost. He retreats to his study like an ill-tempered oyster, and there he clings. Never once has the world seen his work. Oddly at that, he fancies himself a man of great insight. The fact that he now sits there, my likeness before his eyes, and babbles some nonsense about how the war with Russia is in its second year and therefore it must be a bear, is proof to the contrary - he has no insight.