Cats have dreams, too.

Gin (the cat) often sits in the kitchen and stares out the window. I always wonder what he must be thinking.

"Those birds will rue the day they tweeted at me. YOU HEAR THAT BIRDS? RUE!"

"I coulda been free, ya know? I coulda lived in the streets, with my kind. I coulda been something. But here I am, domesticated."

"I didn't used to be this way. I can be happy and pure, as Rousseau stated. I need to get back to nature. Society is corrupting my ways."