I came into this world sickly. I suffered from dwarfism, a genetic disease that resulted in permenant changes in my appearance. I have never known how society treats “normal” faces. Well, except my brother Pokey. He is my twin and the epitome of a healthy specimen. As I was separated from my parents at birth, I don't know which side of the family held the disease. I was told by my new caretakers that both parents were healthy, so maybe I'm just some oddity, or mutation. Not that it matters much, the result is the same either way. Still, I used to wonder if I had some distant relative who died very early who might have had my disease. I wondered if he had a hard life, like me. Nowadays, I hope more than ever that he ended up like me, but somehow I doubt that. I rarely have time to wonder anymore. But I digress. My life was difficult. Being the only victim of dwarfism my friends and family had ever seen, I was subject to much ridicule and teasing from almost everyone around me. They joked me for my flat face and my perpetual unhappy expression which my disease caused. However, as I grew up, I also grew accustomed to the behavior and just learned to ignore people. The unhappy look on my face was no longer only a result of my failed genetics. I was cynical, and very rarely found pleasure in much at all. Pokey, who only grew more healthy and happy, was in the limelight, the apple of our parent's eyes. He always pretended to be kind though, and was actually much meaner than he looked. With no one on my side, I became a loner of sorts, grumpy most of the time, outcast from society. I eventually fell into the pattern of being on my own, reading, napping, or watching movies. My favorite was Life of Pi, because I liked to imagine I would do just fine in the place of Richard Parker. I love fish after all, and being alone at sea isn't so that different than being alone in a house. In any case, everything changed when one of my caretakers decided to start posting pictures of me on the internet. I've never enjoyed the phrase, “smile for the camera.” It seems so fake, especially when considering I have a great deal of trouble changing my expression at all. So when my picture was posted on Reddit.com, my portrayal was of a very grumpy looking cat.

Things moved fast after that. I heard from my owners that my case of feline dwarfism was an internet sensation, spawning countless captions and memes and knock off “Grumpy Cat”s. Suddenly, all who mocked me wanted pictures with me, and Pokey was not the only happy cat in the family. However, my owners were a bit wary of the attention, and decided to only allow me to have a photoshoot with fans once a week. This ended up better than I could have expected; though I initially hated having to wait seven days until my next time in the spotlight, my rare sightings made them more popular and one shoot a week quickly became sold out. I relished in the attention, finally feeling accepted for my appearance. I was becoming a star. My owners had a long discussion over what was best for me, and I was on my best behavior the entire time. I had to show how much happier I was or else they might put an end to my fame right then and there. However, they came around eventually, and gave in to the countless offers and publicity stunts the entire internet seemed to want from me. Soon enough I forgot my name, Tardar Sauce, and assumed my stage persona of “Grumpy Cat.”

I'd finally hit the big time. I visited shows like the Today show, Good Morning America, and CBS Evening News. My grumpy expression was the cover of New York Magazine and The Wall Street Journal. My favorite company, Friskies, even sponsored me on their YouTube show and flew me out to Texas for filming, paying for flying first class, staying in a private hotel room with king-sized bed, a personal assistant, a chauffeur, and, of course, unlimited Friskies food. My owners even found me a manager, the same man who works for the Keyboard Cat and Nyan Cat franchises. With “Grumpy Cat” now trademarked, my face was sold on everything from mugs online to shirts in Hot Topic. And suddenly I had it all. My owners treated me with respect, my brother was put in his place and apologized for his behavior towards me, and my name was worth over a million dollars from my various products and tours. It now is more of a struggle to pretend to be grumpy than it ever was pretending to be happy. I know I am likely just a passing craze, and the attention will likely die down all too soon, but I also know that my legacy and influence for the humans' pop culture will live long after I am gone. But luckily for me, I can afford to live comfortably for a great many years, and fully expect to be on some horrible reality TV show about washed up stars who want more attention. I'll be some old and sagging grumpy cat who is back and grumpier than ever! Ah, but for now, I am one content grump. Life is good.

P.S: My plush toy is coming out soon, and then no house will be without a Grumpy Cat of their own!