I want to thank Link's human Irena Spassova for translating our interview. You can see other awesome things she's done at https://irenaspassova.wordpress.com/, also probably originally written by cats.
"I’m Link, and like most cats my gender is asshole. If you are one of the thumb-havers that feed me, you can address me as “Link” or “kitten”. All others, please use the formal “your highness” or “mao”. I guess you could say I’m a relationship anarchist - my love, purrs, and cuddles belong to those who feed and pet me, whoever that happens to be that day.
"I feel sexiest when I am defeating the blinds that keep me from staring out the windows freely. Usually this involves biting. (Apparently this is frowned upon by the humans of the household.) A close second is when I reclaim a surface of the house that someone has foolishly cleaned by rolling around on it until my fur is covering it once again, especially during shedding season. This can be a pile of clothes, a brand new jacket, a half-full travel bag with meticulously lint rolled dresses, or a glass top table filled with boxes of tiny rolling playthings that the humans always get very protective of.
"My favourite part of me is my belly, which I maintain by eagerly eating all cat food regardless of whose bowl it is in. I also carefully fill it with paper from the paper bags that I bravely fight so that others can live in peace and know that they are destroyed, the carnage of brown paper pieces on display for all to see my strength. Or sometimes, when I’m not in the mood, I’ll just sit on them instead to prove my dominance and importance. That one also works on humans all the time.
"I suppoooooose I also kind of sometimes like the top of my head, which is where some of my more consistently worthy-of-affection humans scratch me diligently, and will sometimes human-kiss me as a sign of affection. (The thought is nice, but actually grooming me like a regular cat would be more appreciated - I can’t reach that spot myself, you know.)
"My views on relationships can be summed up very quickly: are you feeding me? Are you petting me? Are you tying your shoes near me so I can fight the sneaky shoelaces? Are you providing me with a lap to fall asleep on and trap you in place for an hour and prove to both of us that you serve me? If the answer is no to all four, I really don’t care about your existence, do whatever you want.
"If you want to get in my good graces again, the sexiest sound in the world is and always will be the slow, satisfying opening of a can of wet food."