The Cat Threatener

The older lady on the other side of my cubicle wall (you may remember her as the old lady with surprisingly nice legs) is way into cat shows. Waaay into it. She's deeper into cat shows that Dave is into Amish's grandma. And there's all this stuff on her wall, this week—ribbons, a plaque, a metal. Her cat is the 14th best cat in the region, and the 3rd in its breed nationwide.

There's also a little picture frame featuring four poses. The cat is white and fluffy and has a long face. It lounges around a tiny couch, standing against the back, lying down, sitting next to an arm. The cat looks fucking perplexed. Straightup perplexed.

I do not know how they got the cat to sit there and be good. How do you get a cat to sit still? I imagine a gangly guy in a black t-shirt, standing behind the photographer, holding two frayed electrical wires, menacing the cat. This guy is the Cat Threatener. I want his job.

I really want to write a report on the career "Cat Threatener" now.