My father’s cat sees the family as funny looking, if defective, cats.
He wonders and yells about why we don’t go hunt morsels with him.
He seriously doesn’t understand that we cannot fit through the thicket across the street as stealthily as he.
True. My cat would like me to run up the backs of armchairs with him, and go out hunting lizards in company.
He goes to the edge of the woods and meows and looks back at me. So we go for walks. Then he darts up a tree and wants me to come up there with him.
I am not as domesticated as he thinks. In fact I am a bit feral still.