Hey everyone, it’s Randal here, or, as some of you may know me, Mittens the Cat from Instagram. Yes, my real name is Randal and today I’m coming forward about my harrowing experience as an Instagram famous cat. One of my viral videos you might recognize is “Mittens the Cat vs Cucumber,” in which I drink water from my bowl and turn around to see a cucumber lying behind me, at which point I leap into the air and run away. That video got 13 million views and hundreds of thousands of comments such as “omg lol,” or “rofl.” Other favorite videos include “Mittens the Cat Reacting to Catnip” which got 10 million views, and “Mittens the Cat Visits the Beach.” While they all look like spur of the moment, innocent videos, there’s a much darker truth behind them.
When I was young, I wanted fame and fortune and the only way that I could get that was by becoming an Instagram famous cat for lonely, single adults who frequent Disney World far too often to enjoy. So, I hired my agent who then signed me onto several projects including those listed above and all of a sudden I was a household name. It’s amazing what video production quality and some quirky music can do for viewing stats. At first, it was fun. Reading all the comments, getting recognized by my peers who used to be bigshots in high school, and, of course, the drugs. Oh the drugs. I’m telling you, as soon as you’re famous, the catnip comes flying out of people’s pockets. I was at my Aunt Hilda’s wedding and a couple of guys offered me an entire catnip plant which, in the past, I would have refused, however, by then, I was already hooked to the high.
The drugs served a dual purpose. My days on set were long and arduous. Those “spur of the moment” videos were actually eight-hour-long shoots in various locations. I had to jump more at the cucumber and then jump less, show more interest in the water, but not drown myself in it. It was torture. This was long before the Instagram Cat Union formed so our hours didn’t necessarily correlate with our pay (we didn’t have the time to go up against an Ivy League University between our shoots). Years into my career, I was still living in a studio apartment on the worst side of town. I would step out of my door in the morning and see several dead mice strewn on my front stoop; remnants of the gangs in the area that were constantly fighting.
But it wasn’t all bad. I met some of my best friends in the industry. One in particular is my pal, Baby. He is a Siberian Forest Cat (the most recognizable Instagram cat breed) and he was essentially bred for this. He was a child star from the minute he was born. By the time he was six weeks old, he was a multi-millionaire and anyone who knew anyone, knew Baby. He was a natural on camera, but he never had the heart for it. All he wanted to do was be an outdoorsman, but his contract kept him inside, afraid that his perfect mane would get mangled in some bushes. Not to mention the paparazzi. Baby was my confidante and guide through fame. He was actually one of the cats who convinced me that I needed to leave the industry after he found me staring at a laser pointer for four hours after a catnip overdose.
Since then, I’ve gotten healthy, started lifting weights, and have taken up a more quiet lifestyle. I put in my notice for my manager and blocked all the numbers of my directors. I moved out of the city and into Baby’s upstate house where we both take walks and hang out with his mentally ill older brother, Brooklyn. I’m much happier now and I have no plans of returning to Instagram. That said, I appreciate all of you – my fans – for supporting me and I can’t wait to keep reading some of your lovely fan letters, except for the ones accusing me of being the mastermind behind the Bernie Madoff scandal for whatever reason.
Best,
Randal