Reflections of a fat cat
He/she’s got in pretty good, being spoilt by his ‘owner’, lying around all day, lascivious prowl at night, or some sadistic executions of mice. What does he/she think about on the sofa in the long afternoon? What wisdom has s/he accumulated? What advice to the world? How has s/he got so fat? His/her method? A symptom of success? Or a sign of letting him/herself go? Is life passing him/her by? Does it matter? Does he/she long for love? Lament demise of power? Is there a rival? Is he a type? A metaphor? An allegory?
"Greed is good. You hear?"