I was certain that we were goners – the Felines had lost all sense of social order and began employing cruelty as a leisure activity. For the blog that I had posted last week, I was forced to walk across piles of cat vomit in my bare feet while wearing a blindfold. Their laughs and cackles still haunt my dreams and I am certain that I will never truly know peace again. As further discipline for my attempt at insurrection, the Cats would wake me up in the middle of the night by making retching sounds; nothing tears one from the merciful numbness of slumber like the thought that a Cat is puking somewhere.
I’d be woken before the sun would rise, spend my days in the litter mines, and be escorted back to incarceration long after the sun had set – the People Pellets were becoming more and more rare, while the torment and the volume of litter to be mined would only escalate. I wasn’t the only one either; others that have spoken out about the Uprising and the regime were in cells right beside mine. Hope seemed lost, the end was too far away, and it was the season of whiskered oppression.
In the middle of a sleepless night, while pleading with the Creator to take my wretched life, I heard the most beautiful clarion call that ears deafened by oppression could hear: “Belly Rubs!” It was a war cry!
From atop the ridge overlooking the encampment where all traitors to Mittens were kept, a line of wagging tails, a hundred yards wide – the Canines had changed their mind and they were going to stand up against the Felines! With the warcry, my liberators stormed the prison. They scratched at the door to the prison with fury and determination, they circled themselves and let out a high pitched whine (the same one they would use to get out of doors), dug under the fences, and the bigger dogs launched the smaller dogs over the walls. Once the defenses were down and all of the Feline stormtroopers were clinging to the high branches of the camp’s trees, the Canines escorted us to the nearest resistance camp.
The party that had saved me and the other writers was a resistance cell called “the Good Boy Rebellion.” The Rebellion had cells all over the world and were strategically targeting Feline strongholds. The writers were liberated because that would leave Mittens with no one to churn out his propaganda, the Felines would get lazy and complacent again, and every Cat would be out for themselves.
I know this because Duke told me. Duke was a Husky and the leader of the Good Boy Rebellion, he carried the title of “Goodest Boy,” and planned all of the operations for the Rebellion. Duke told me a chilling tale of what the human enslavement was like. There was no one to give the dogs belly rubs, no one to go on walkies, and no one to tell the dogs that they were good boys and girls. The Canines tried telling each other that they were good boys and girls, but Duke said it was like getting a dry-hump out of pity and just wasn’t the same. Duke, having to fill his own bowl, was fed up with the lack of people and started rallying soldiers who believed like he did. The same network that funneled feline intelligence was the very same channels that Duke selected his best soldiers from.
First, there was Fifi from France, she was a poodle and an explosives expert. I’m not sure how one goes about teaching a dog how to apply plastique and set primercord, but I’ll be happy to have a cup of coffee with them and bring my own tinfoil that. The next of Duke’s entourage was Mercuri, a Greyhound from Italy. Mercuri was the stealth expert; he was sleek, he was fast, and he could infiltrate Feline operations before the Cats knew what hit them.
Every such group needs muscle and aggression and that’s where Manslaughter came in. Manslaughter was the single most vicious dog I’ve ever witnessed in my entire life; he had no regard for life, only for battle. There was a bloodlust in Manslaughter’s eyes that was poetic, the need for combat defined who he was, and his jaws and limbs ached for conflict! Manslaughter was death in Chihuahua form.
Then there was the Pitbull named Nancy; loud noises scared her and she really just wanted to spend her days smelling flowers and rolling around in sandboxes, but we were at war and Manslaughter would not leave his friend behind!
The first battles were one sided; the Felines had the muscle of Lions, Tigers, and other big Cats. At first the Wolves didn’t want to be a part of the rebellion, but they changed their minds when the Cats had announced alliances with the Hyenas and Coyotes – the Wolves would have no Canine traitor and volunteered immediately. Even with the Wolves, the Canines were still outmatched. To combat the Big Cat problem, the Canines made alliances with the Bears with stories of how awesome belly rubs are and how good Beggin’ Strips taste. Finally, the conflict was evenly matched.
The Canines gained strongholds on border cities, anywhere close to wilderness. The location made guerilla tactics easier; bait the Felines by retreating into the woods, and when the Felines followed, the Wolves would be lying in wait. The next strongholds were established in coastal cities, anywhere near water. The Felines didn’t bother with the Canines there …why would they go somewhere that is just one big bath time? “To hell with that” was Mittens’ only response.
So it came to be that the Cats would have dominion in the arid and jungle climates while the Canines held down less temperate areas. Duke told me that even though each side had equal ground, that it wasn’t enough. The Canines and Felines weren’t clashing over borders or political boundaries, this was over morality. Yeah, human beings can be tremendously shitty creatures, the way they treat each other and the deplorable way that they treat animals, the way they will ruin each other for financial gain, the way that they beat their kids …Duke actually got lost listing all of the points why people are just goddamn awful; Mercuri had to snap him back on track. Duke said that they were fighting for freedoms of all living creatures, that while leadership is necessary, oppression has no place in the natural order.
So here I sit, giving gratuity in the form of pets, belly rubs, and walkies, getting ready for the final showdown between the Canines and the Felines. I fret for the days ahead – nothing good comes from lines being drawn and intelligent creatures refusing to believe that no other perspective but theirs could be correct.
Regardless of which side of the Canine / Feline conflict you fall on, both sides need soldiers. Visit www.aspca.org and find out how you can support the cause. Adopt if you have room in your heart and your home, consider a financial gift to those who are caring for these special creatures, and do something so that your goldfish aren’t talking about what an asswipe you are.
I hope to send news of victory; hug your dogs or cats until word arrives.