I am a cat. I am a large orange tabby. They named me Julius as some kind of joke, but I like to think it is because I resemble Julius Caesar, because I am the Lord and Master of all I survey. My people, not being total idiots, give me the complete run of the house and have kindly also provided a cat door so I can go outside whenever I wish. This has deprived me of the joy of doing the old "Shall I go out now? Well...hmmmm. Or shall I not? Hmmm. Well..." routine for at least 5 minutes while the frustrated human holding the door open slowly goes insane as all the warm air in the house escapes...ha, ha, ha! But what the heck, every good idea has some flaw. I still vote for the cat door. It allows me to enter and leave without the fuss and bother of depending on others, and I like that freedom.

Being a natural cat, and proud of it, I go outside as often as I may...with only a few basic objectives. One, to find a female cat in heat. This is sometimes harder than you might think, but worth the trouble. Two, to fight. Definitely an excellent reason for going out. Three, to snoop around. The public duty of all good cats. Four, to defecate in people's gardens and drive them crazy. Ah, the sheer joy of it. But now comes the piece de resistance....

I go out to ruthlessly kill small animals! Yes. And I love it. I have slaughtered uncountable legions of mice, voles, moles, and other little furry-crawlies like that. Without me you might be neck deep in them, so don't forget to say "thanks" when you see me saunter by.

But most of all...Ah, yes, most of ALL I love to kill BIRDS. You heard me. Birds. I exterminate them with glorious abandon. Any bird will do, as long as it's not too big to handle. Songbirds are perfect, but nothing quite does it for me like nailing a hummingbird. MMMM...yummy!

I do all this and more because I am a natural animal. 100% natural. I admit to being a killer, and I'm not conflicted about it in the least. I was made to kill rodents and birds.

How I pity you, you fat, disgusting human slobs, hunkered down at your dining tables consuming the slaughtered flesh of countless imprisoned and terrorized animals whom you have never honestly stared in the eyes, gorging yourselves thoughtlessly on their blood, flesh, and bone, while going all "Ewwwwww!" over a teeny flesh wound or a dead songbird, and not having the guts to do your own killing, but farming it out to vast commercial enterprises who plug millions of pigs and cows in the head with steel bolts and raise chickens in conditions so crowded that they can't even get up and move around.

You are the ones who are unnatural. You foster disease and horror wherever you go. You are incapable of facing what you really are...killers, red in fang and claw.

You are conflicted. I am not. You wear clothes. I don't. You are addicted to drugs. I'm not. You pretend innocence. I don't. You are unnatural. I am natural, and proud of it.