It was her hope to be like the other one in the house, to be able to walk the way she did and hold things firmly in her hands. She dreamed of it at night; images of what she’d seen during the day touching her, connecting, becoming real enough that she knew when she awoke, she’d look for a pair of shoes to slip on and wear while she did her daily errands.
With each morning came the abrupt awareness that she was still not like the other, that they had basic differences in so many areas, especially the one that kept them from conversing in a manner that would possibly bring satisfaction to both. This fact made her irritable every morning....she’d shun the other and stay silent and still until coaxed out of her bad temper.
No matter how she desired it, how she yearned for it, how she concentrated, focused her strong will to cause her body to change...she knew she'd never be like the other, the one she relied on for almost everything.
Her long ago far away memories told her there was a time when the other was inferior, and those like herself were gods. Times changed the order, and now, the human was in charge... and she, the feline member of the duo, could do nothing more than be secretly envious of the other’s abilities, falling back on open disdain of any and all attempts to befriend her.... taking bitter pleasure in watching the other try to woo her into accepting a subservient role; and completely rejecting the advances. And, occasionally, when she was particularly peeved or had a deep desire to remind the other who was really in charge--she’d wee in the clothes hamper, just because she could.