This is my story. I hope you read it, and when you do, you will stand with me to demand some answers.
It had started innocently enough. For years, I had been training my cat Moxy to do something that I have seen no other cat could do: to walk on his hind legs. A few months ago, I had finally reached success, and Moxy was able to make two or three steps on his hind legs with me just barely holding him. You cannot imagine how immensely happy I felt. This achievement absolutely justified my decision to drop out of college so that I could spend more time training Moxy. Not many of my friends had a cat, and none of them who did were able to train their cat to walk on hind legs. Clearly, this was an extraordinary triumph, but of course, most credit goes to Moxy. A cat walking on hind legs may seem trivial, but that could very well be the next major step of feline evolution, culminating with cats being fully able to walk on two legs, speak, read, go to work and play Farmville on Facebook. In other words, this was a small step for Moxy, but a giant leap for catkind.
I knew I had to share the amazing story of Moxy’s success with the world.
I decided to call the New York Times first. I fully expected them to break Moxy’s story to the world immediately, and I knew that once it breaks, there would be thousands of TV appearances and interviews. I wanted Moxy to look his best, so I spent all my life savings on his grooming appointment. I knew that once Moxy becomes a star, I would get those $200 back, and maybe make hundreds of dollars more.
I called New York Times once the appointment was over. Immediately, I felt that something was off. After I had explained the magnitude of Moxy’s achievement to the lady who answered the phone, I could feel her genuine interest in her voice. Yet instead, she politely told me that New York Time doesn’t do “those kinds of stories”. What kinds of stories, I thought to myself, like only the most breathtaking feline achievement in the history of the Universe? I asked the lady to connect me with the editor-in-chief, but she told me he wasn’t available. By the tone of her voice, I knew she was lying.
I hanged up and called Washington Post. To my surprise, the conversation repeated itself almost word for word. I thought I had called New York Times again by mistake, so I hanged up and carefully dialed Washington Post again. But this time, they hanged up on me after just a few seconds. Something definitely wasn’t right.
I thought third time’s the charm, and called USA Today. No such luck. Wall Street Journal. Not interested. NBC. No, yet again. A clear pattern was emerging. Every newspaper or TV channel refused to run the story, giving me all sorts of excuses. This couldn’t just be a coincidence. I began suspecting that there’s a conspiracy lurking in the shadows. If I needed the get the story out, I had to find an honest news organization that could never be involved in a conspiracy.
I called National Enquirer. But all they wanted to know is whether aliens or Kim Kardashian were involved in any kind of illicit relationship with Moxy. I sent a letter to Sports Illustrated, because I think Moxy’s achievement qualifies him for some kind of the world record in whatever sport that involves walking. In response, SI just sent me a magazine with a lot of skimpily-dressed women, many whom were pictured standing on their hind legs. I must admit that some of those hind legs looked pretty nice, but if Sports Illustrated wanted to insult me, they sure hit the bulls-eye. Why would anyone want to look at that magazine with yet another bunch of pictures of standing people instead of pictures of Moxy on his hind legs?
Fox News, how could I forget you? The most independent-minded network that runs the stories no other news channel ever covers, the most patriotic organization ever owned by an Australian magnate and a Saudi prince… To my delight, Fox agreed to run the article on their website, but cautioned me that they may edit the story slightly. But when their story went up on the website, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Their story was how Obamacare makes the cats emigrate to Canada. I was outraged! How dare they?? Have they got no shame?? I immediately called the Canadian embassy and requested a citizenship application for Moxy. But then I re-read the article. Nowhere in the article there were any mention of Moxy’s marvelous achievement. If even Fox News was trying to silence my story, there was no longer a doubt in my mind that a huge media conspiracy was afoot.
Because I consider myself a true American patriot, I had resolved that the story must appear first in the American media. So I never thought of contacting any foreign outlets like al-Jazeera, Pravda, or San Francisco Chronicle. Instead, I kept calling local newspapers and public access channels, but to my dismay, I have discovered that the poisonous tentacles of conspiracy stretched as far as Anchorage’s Beach Bum Review and Biloxi Liberal News.
Eventually, I swallowed my pride and called that news network which no one ever watches. But even these CNN has-beens refused to take the story about Moxy. I decided that I had no other choice but to scrap my remaining dignity and call Jay Leno. Instead, I don’t know why, I called Playboy. I knew this was some sort of bunny magazine but I figured that they could do an exception and print a cat-related story for once. I could not comprehend why they started asking me if my cat is hairy or not, and if I would be open to shaving it. The question baffled me and I started to protest that I would never shave Moxy and that I normally refer to Moxy as “cat”. That’s when they told me they’ll come and shoot Moxy just in case.
I dropped my phone.
It’s one thing when your story is suppressed, but it is a whole another game when people are already out there to shoot your cat. I knew we didn’t have much time, and we had to get out and find a safe place as quickly as possible. I grabbed only the bare necessities – a 30 pound tub of cat litter, and a second, smaller 20 pound tub just in case, and Moxy and I ran out of our house to the sidewalk. That’s when it all happened.
Moxy ran on all four legs next to me. He’s a smart cat, and he knew better than to attract attention by running on hind legs. We’ve only covered half a block towards the nearest bus station, when suddenly, a black SUV with tinted windows swerved right into Moxy. Thank God for Moxy’s quick cat-like reflexes, because he instantly jumped right on my head to escape a near-certain death. The black SUV sped away, just barely missing me by a couple inches. I tried to catch a glimpse of the driver’s face, but it was impossible because of the tinted windows and the fact that driver was staring into his cell phone.
It was clear to me that Moxy and I have just survived an assassination attempt. I immediately dialed 9-1-1, expecting to hear that SWAT team is already on their way. I’ve just started explaining that I tried to get the SUV’s license plate but lost precious seconds while prying Moxy’s claws out of my face, when the dispatcher rudely interrupted me to say that since there were no injuries or property damage, they won’t investigate. I’ve tried to explain about the conspiracy and the Playboy people coming to kill us, but the dispatcher hanged up.
He hanged up.
The police were in on it. There was no other explanation. My brain felt as though it was ready to explode, but there was no time to process what had happened. The SUV could return, and the Playboy people could be here any minute. We had to get away as soon as possible. As fast as we could, we ran to the bus station and immediately started waiting for the bus. At the station, I looked down at Moxy as I was trying to catch my breath. He surely knew what was going on, but my brave cat was taking the SUV attack and the whole conspiracy it much better than I did.
Through the entire bus ride, I was sitting on pins and needles, and kept looking out the window to see if we were being followed. I didn’t know why would someone leave their pins and needles on a bus seat, but I couldn’t afford to move, not wanting to draw attention. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make out anyone following the bus, but I knew these people were professionals, so not seeing them only made things worse. Close to the end of the bus trip, I caught a glimpse of a black SUV, which quickly disappeared back into the afternoon traffic. Once we got off the bus we ran into the airport terminal. There, in the crowd of people, we started to feel a little safer. But I sensed that the noose around us was tightening.
After today’s assassination attempt, I knew that the powers behind the conspiracy will not stop at anything to silence Moxy’s story: death threats murder, cover-up, suppression. I don’t know who is behind this conspiracy: aliens, Illuminati, or dogs who have been bullying cats for centuries. My only hope is that you, who are reading this, will share Moxy’s story, and the conspiracy will be exposed.
I just don’t know if Moxy and I will be alive to see it.
I am writing this in the airport as we are getting ready to board the plane to another country. Understandably, I will not reveal the name of the country, only that it’s somewhere in the North. I got Moxy’s Canadian citizenship application and two tubs of cat litter.
We may yet survive this.