My world is upside down, and not just because my belly is in the air in hopes of inspiring a tummy rub. The humans previously referred to as Father and Mother are nearly unrecognizable. They run past me in a blur of cardboard and crumpled paper, muttering to themselves and each other about not forgetting this or that. But the ultimate horror befell me this week. An occurrence so frightening that I dared not even consider its possibility. I will never get over it.
Someone locked me inside a closet. For hours. Strangers were trampling through the house in what they called an “inspection”. The closet door opened and a strange set of eyes peeked inside. They couldn’t see me in the back, snuggled on a fallen piece of clothing. I heard the click of the door and knew that I was doomed. No one to hear my wails. No one to rescue me. I ought to have peed on the floor in protest but my inner princess somehow preserved the last bit of dignity needed to block my wee. I’ve clearly been abandoned to the elements without a care about what becomes of me.
The authorities eventually returned home and freed me. I stood my ground and yelled at the woman (to whom I will no longer refer with the respectful name Mother) and, later, also announced my displeasure to the man. Was I offered treats? Did I get any form of extra foodstuffs to calm my rattled nerves? I did not! It has become a life of indignity piled on indignity around here.
While you enjoy this confusing holiday, it’s a one-cat sweatshop around here. I must put aside my personal traumas for the moment and fulfill my human’s promise to give you an update. It appears that I’m the only one who knows how to keep their word.
This photo shows the nearly cleared-out garage. Previously, it was packed from floor to ceiling. For this task, the male human had help from his friend Barry (who is always nice to me) and a young man who was dating someone they refer to as a niece. Two days after this chore, they broke up and I say, good! Get out while you can before your life is ruined, like mine. Ruined!
The shipping container contains many smaller containers. May I remind you that this is container number one? And more things will go into it. I begged the powers that be to lock the annoying grey cat inside, but my wish did not come true. Somehow, revenge for his sliding door taunts will still be mine! If not this time, then another. I am nothing if not patient, as proven by my aforementioned refusal to make floor pee even though it was richly deserved.
Add to my indignities that I’ve heard the authorities claim that I “eat like a wolverine” and I’m “a full-figured gal”. Can you imagine? I’d cough up a hairball in response but there’s a squirrel on the deck and I must go and stare him down. This is your favourite four-footed feline friend, signing off until next Monday, and next container, unless I’m locked in a closet again. You can’t count on anything around here anymore. Not even freedom.