Stella Talks Freedom

With Independence Day around the corner, I decided to chat with my cat, Stella, about freedom — not the best topic for a house cat.

The Fourth of July is coming up, Stella! How should we celebrate our freedom?

Ah, freedom! The light of a civil society, the cornerstone of American democra … Remind me what that is again?

Well, it’s the ability to do what you want, I suppose.

Like the ability to just open the door and walk to a chicken farm and pick out a chicken?

I don’t think you just pick out a chicken at a chicken farm.

Where do you pick out a chicken?

At a supermarket I guess, but they’d all be wrapped in plastic. Why are we talking about this?

How does it smell?

How does what smell?

A chicken in plastic.

Like plastic. Maybe there’s a faint odor of raw chicken.


I’m not going to let you walk to the store to pick out a chicken, if that’s where you’re going with this.

Oh, come on! You get to celebrate your freedom, but I can’t so much as take a walk down the street before you start putting up signs with my face on them.

Hey, you got lost for three days last year, remember?

I was not lost. I was on a walkabout.

You’re not Australian.

And yet I spent three nights in the bush.

A bush. A SINGLE bush.

Well, if I had more freedom I might not get so turned around 200 feet from the house.

You should never be 200 feet from the house, ever. It’s dangerous for a cat out there.

You clearly don’t know who you are talking to, so let me clue you in …

Please tell me you’re not quoting Walter White from Breaking Bad.

I am not IN danger, I AM the danger!

Oh, please.

I could’ve driven a truck through that opening, pal. But my point stands: Aren’t you locking me in the house because I’m the predator?

Ha ha, no.

Did you just laugh?


I can’t believe this. So you’re restraining my freedom for my own safety?

I’m responsible for you, Stella.


Really? How’s it going between you and the moth in the bathroom?

That’s not a moth. That’s like a vampire bat.

I think you’re best safe indoors with me.

So I’m like, what? An antelope stuck in a zoo, instead of a lion?

You’re more like a koala.

At the very least I’m a horse.

I was going to say a penguin.

Would a penguin have a box of fireworks hidden in the closet?

Please don’t tell me that’s true.

Hey, it’s not my fault you have your credit card info on autofill. This penguin is going to pop off on the Fourth.

You will do no such thing, Stella. Cats are supposed to be scared of fireworks.

You clearly don’t know who you are talking to, so let me —

Please, not again.

I AM the —

I think the moth is actually the danger, Stella.

You might be right. We should seal off the bathroom.

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