I think that cats should be treated the same as humans. It's not their fault they're cats. If you want to know what it's like to be a cat, read below in my cat Abby's point of view.

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I looked around nervously at the people around me as they shoved me into a cardboard carrier. Usually when they put me in it, I am left in a scary place with people in blue coats doing things to you like sticking needles in you, and locking you up in cages with awful smelling cat litter. I stuck my head out and they shoved it back in. After a few more tries to get out, I finally gave up and ducked my head as they closed the box. It was dark inside, and I felt myself being carried, and then plopped onto something. I heard doors shut and then a roaring sound. I knew that sound. It was the engine of the car starting. They were taking me somewhere.

I meowed the whole time we were in the car, and then the engine stopped and I was carried again. Then I heard talking, phones ringing, and cats and dogs barking and meowing. It was the scary place!

I was set down on something and then light leaked in through the box and hands reached in and pulled me out of the box. I was in a small tan room. The person put me down on a black counter. I looked around. My owner was standing close, looking at me with worry in his eyes. What is going to happen? I thought to myself.

After a while, my owner was gone and I was in a big white room, with the people in blue coats and masks over their faces. I was lying down on a white bed and I felt unusually sleepy. I'm not going to fall asleep, I told myself. I'm not going to fall asleep, I'm not going to fall... I fell into a deep sleep. I dreamt of being at home in my nice cozy bed, chewing on my catnip toy. Everything was different here. It was cold, and definitely not cozy. It had no toys, no catnip, and no leopard print cat bed. Nothing.

I awoke to be alone. My paws felt different, and they throbbed. I looked over to the right. The door was open and light was coming into the dark room. A head peeked in. There was a man with brown hair and a round, shiny face. He smiled which made me feel more comfortable.

"You're awake!" he said and set a clipboard down on the table next to the bed. He grabbed a short, tube-like thing with liquid in it and squirted it in the corner of my mouth. I gagged. It tasted awful. More people came in and took me to another room and started looking at my paws. They put bandages on them, and then put me in a cage. Great. I was still drowsy, so I just plopped down and closed my eyes.

It seemed like I stayed in that place forever. Cooped up in that cage all day and all night, having disgusting liquid squirted into my mouth every day. But finally my owner came back to pick me up. I was excited to go home, and I hoped that I wouldn't have to take that liquid anymore. Most of all I wanted to scratch on the furniture again and go outside into the fresh air. I also wanted to drink out of the toilet.

The ride home seemed longer than ever. Once again I meowed the whole way and peeked through the holes of my box. Green trees and colorful cars were speeding by. I could feel myself shaking. I lay down in a lump and licked my paws that no longer had bandages. They were itchy. It felt like I was missing something, something that I needed. I forgot about it and waited.

Right when we were home I was walking around in circles in my box, impatiently waiting for people to open it and let me out. Thankfully, someone opened it and I leaped out. It was nice and toasty in the house, and the soft white carpet felt good on my sore paws. I limped into the kitchen with some people following me and ate some food out of my bowl. Then I went to the bathroom to drink out of the toilet. The lid was closed. I looked at my owner, hoping she would open it for me.

"No, Abby."

I meowed. My owner shook her head. So I limped into the living room and scratched on the furniture. My paws slid down the cushion. That's odd. I tried again. Same thing. Usually, my paws stuck to the furniture, and I pulled them off, leaving a snag in the fabric. But this time it didn't work. They smoothly slid down. There was giggling around me. I let out a huff of air. Nothing was the same as it used to be... And I didn't like it.

The next day, I slept on my owner's bed. I nibbled on my paws. They stung like crazy. Then they started to bleed. When I realized what was going on, I limped into the bathroom to find the toilet lid open, thankfully. I hopped up and dipped my paw into the water. The water turned red. I dipped it a few more times. It wasn't helping. I gave up with the toilet and walked across the bathroom. I licked my paw. Bleck. I tried shaking it. Then I walked into the living room and hopped on the black table against the wall. I shook it again, hopped down, and got on the couch. I bit it a little more. It was still bleeding. I went in the kitchen and meowed.

"There's blood!"

I heard a shout from at the back of the house. Some people ran over.

“Abby bled on my white comforter, on the new carpet, in the toilet, on the floor in the bathroom, on the table...across the new furniture!"

They started cleaning up right away and I was locked in the laundry room. After a little while someone came in and put a cone thing around my head. It was tight and sort of itchy. It was uncomfortable to put my head down so I just sat there with the cone on my head. Soon Sarah, one of my owners, came in and started to pet me. I purred, but was still uncomfortable with the thing over my head. I closed my eyes and tried putting my head down. It felt okay, so I just went to sleep with her stroking my fur.

The next day, I was put in the cage again, and once more taken to the vet. They looked at my paws and wrapped them in the tight, itchy bandages again. At least they weren't as bad as the cone. Then I was put in the cage again. It seemed like I stayed longer this time. I think I stayed an extra night. I know one thing for sure. I should have never started to scratch on the furniture. Then I would still have my claws.

- Sarah, 10, Texas