This is an item that may be quite odd to see without context but trust me, even with the context it’s ownership by me is still nonsensical. So, please continue reading if you like nonsense.
This cat toy was once owned by a cat… at least I think that’s how ownership works with pet toys. It’s possible the cat toy was actually owned by the cat’s owners; the Robinson family. It may also have been on lease to the cat, or being borrowed, or some other sort of arrangement of matter. I am fairly sure the cat believed it owned the toy. This is because I’m fairly sure the cat believed it owned everything. This was because it was a cat; they haven’t really got an established conception of ownership as it applies in the modern world.
Cats are stupid.
I came to own this toy by theft. Kind of. In my younger eyes, it wasn’t really theft because it was a she. She was… now what did I call her? Perhaps Joe will remember.
You see, I met her at my longtime Joe friend’s house. Wait. My longtime friend Joe’s house. There.
I fell in love with her at first sight. We had a whirlwind romance, I would see her daily on account of going to see Joe daily. We’d watch Sonic X and play video games and appreciate that hour after school where I didn’t have to be home yet. Secretly, I’d sneak time with her while he went to the toilet or made escalopes. Ours was a story of love cemented in time by the forces of absurdity and sexual frustration.
So I helped her escape. I took her from her wretched home. And then back again. And then away again. And then back again. I kept her in my backpack, you see, and like I said I visited Joe a lot. I think it might have been at least every wednesday. Was Sonic X on on wednesdays?
Anyway. The joke got boring and the love got stale. Possibly because she smelled a bit after being left in my bag for so long.