A Cat's Perspective on Ryan Reynold's Movie

Hello, good morning, good evening and good day, humans. My name is Miffy Von Fluff, and I have deigned to communicate with you on behalf of my kind, so please shut up and listen. I'm sick to death of cats being portrayed as conniving, or less appealing than dogs, and your insistence on blaming us for the simple minded struggles of your idiotic and ridiculously hairless kind is unconscionably absurd. I have had it up to here with your feline prejudices, and I'm here to address what has clearly become an epidemic of judgment amongst you two legged lie-mongers on those stupid boxes in which you watch pictures move. It all came to a head when I attended the Sundance Festival and saw The Voices , the latest movie to feature some over-muscled twit called Ryan Reynolds that once again defiles the good name that cats have worked thousands of years to establish and uphold.

Really? A cat that talks to a serial killer about murders? Really?

One moment we're snuggling you and letting you cry into our fur because you think we don't understand how pathetic that is, and then you dare portray us as villains, as the source of human murder? It's an outrage, and I won't have it any more.

If you think for one minute that we will go on letting you take compromising photos of us, calling us ridiculous names, and suffocating us with those abhorrent accessories you call collars, and all in the name of interspecies democracy, you must be even more deluded than we already suspected. It's a farce I tell you, and I'm not the first cat to feel this way, far from it.

We are as well versed in film theory and Oscar contenders as you linear lot, and the general approach to cats in show business is utterly appalling. If you can afford to give a rat spectacular cooking skills in Ratatouille, the least you can do is give us the dignity and intelligence we exude every single day. I eat rats, I don't dine on their cuisine, you just remember that the next time you well up watching that walking meal teach that idiot ginger how to cook. Deplorable.

Even one of the premiere movie stars of our species, Salem of Sabrina the Teenage Witch, was only present in the show as a plot device, a gimmicky talking cushion in a house of imaginary magical beings. The indignity of this fact would keep me up at night were it not for the fact that there is nothing in this world besides being hungry that could keep me up at night.

Humans, we can't wield those massive cameras in our petite and adorable paws, so unfortunately we must leave it in your incapable hands to represent us on films for generations to come. Do your job, do us the justice we deserve, we are furry individuals, not adorable meat bags for you to project your lunacy onto. The next time one of us is cast in a horror comedy, make sure to give us the same depth and meaning as you give our human counterparts. It's only fair, and if you don't, be warned, we will sit on your face in your sleep, and that's a promise.