Cool Cat Loves the Soldiers

'''Cool Cat Loves the Soldiers ''' Cool Cat Loves the Soldiers is the gritty, bloody story of an innocent and loving anthropomorphic cat who, enthralled by love and admiration for the heroes who defend his country, joins the army. This friendly, affectionate nature is quickly stolen from him as the horrors of war reveal themselves and become too great a burden to bear. Cool Cat realizes that there are no heroes in war. There are no winners. It's all just an endless cycle. His purity is replaced with pain and bitterness. As his friends die one by one he comes to despise the country that sent them to their fate.

He returns from war a broken cat, missing a paw and half of his tail. He's no longer the upbeat, happy-go-lucky patriot he once was. He's just a shell of his former self. He hardly speaks, and he never goes out. He just sits there cold, staring at his medals on the wall and drinking bottle after bottle of milk. The sound of the kids playing outside makes him hiss angrily. When he hears Butch the bully mocking the other kids, he just laughs. He has come to find solace in other people's suffering. Maybe it's some kind of desperate attempt at relating to somebody. He is alone. No amount of rapping or singing to the sound of a signed guitar can change that. He no longer cares enough to watch wrestling, or spread the word about alternative fuels. He, unable to let go of the past, just sits there waiting to die.

The medals on the wall taunt him every day, yet he keeps them there. He stares at them intensely day in day out, not even bothering to go to the litter tray. Maybe it's because they're the only sign of any achievement. Maybe he sees them as some kind of memorial to his fallen comrades. Maybe it's because they're shiny, and cats like shiny things.

One thing is for sure: Cool Cat is dead inside. He has learned that war isn't cool. He has learned that life isn't cool. He has been naive and abused by his country. He feels lonely, humiliated, abandoned and stupid. But what can you expect from the product of a man fucking a cat and calling it his wife? He was hardly ever destined for greatness. He wishes he had died with his men. He wishes that he was using that scratching post up in the sky. But he's trapped in his battered body until life frees him from its cold grasp. Until then, he will wait.