M-e-o-w!

In my next life, I'm coming back as a cat. Actually, I may have already been one. I like tuna. My initials were CAT before I got married, and I have a sensual feline grace....ok, but I DO have green eyes!
What's NOT to like about being a cat? They sleep much of the day, eat, get high on catnip, chase little jingling balls under the furniture, and sit on a nice warm lap to sleep some more. We have five cats, and the one I would like to emulate in my kitty-life is Jasmine, the half-Siamese. Not because everyone loves her (she thinks they do), but because she is a spoiled, queen-of-the-house super diva. She was the first cat we got, an adorable fluffy-white kitten with blue eyes. She let the girls dress her up in doll clothes, and gamely went along with her role as the "baby" when they played house. But somewhere along the line, she realized that being compliant doesn't get the results that being a b---- does. (Maybe she's going through menopause, Fred?!)
Jazz is almost 15 now, and she HAS to have canned food in the morning and at bedtime or she will DIE. Since I am the canned-food provider, Jazz takes it upon herself to wake me up anywhere from 4 to 6 AM. Her methods vary, but all are effective and make further sleep impossible. She goes into the shower and beats on the wall with her paws like a boxer. She gets up on the dresser and methodically knocks things off onto the floor....picks a fight with whatever other unfortunate cat crosses her path...jumps onto the bed and puts her wet nose in my face, meowing pitifully....I have thrown pillows at her, shot her with a squirt gun, yelled and threatened--but she always ends up getting her way. Today I lasted till 7:20, though the abuse began at 6.
So I hope I come back as a cat--not as a working barn mouser, or a scrounging alley cat--but a pampered house cat that belongs to a pushover like me! I'm going to practice purring, just in case.