Not Storming the Castle

Welcome once again my little litter diggers! I trust you are coping well through this strangest of ages in which we find ourselves. Today, I want to tell you about Mother’s failed attempt to entertain me with her craft-making ways.

As I’m sure you’ve figured out through my various stories, Mother is my second-favourite human bean. It was she who chose me from all the homeless cats and kittens at the London Humane Society. She brought me home and cleaned me up. It’s Mother who powders my nose when I can’t reach my own bum and tidies my bathroom every day. She does the thankless jobs that I appreciate very much.

But Father is my favourite.

He intuitively knows what I need, how I feel, and whether or not I will approve of a plaything. Father insisted on buying this strange and wonderful scratching post, which I use every day. It’s the best non-human-bean in the house.

A photo taken in our short-term apartment shows the scratcher. It looks like a long toilet brush attached at both ends to an oval platform.
See it behind me?

Perhaps it was boredom or maybe her innate will to please when Mother happened upon the idea of creating a special home-within-a-home for me made of cardboard.

Cat peeking out of a tank made of cardboard.

She was inspired by a photo like this.

However, upon reflection, she determined that a piece of war machinery wasn’t appropriate for my delicate nature. No, I was more suited to the spoils of royalty. For me, she would build a castle. It would consist of three floors, with passageways up from one to the next. If I so chose, I could stretch myself up to the top to peer out at my kingdom.

Castle consists of three stacked boxes glued together. Drawbridge made of cord. Tassles hang from the roof of the bottom box. A turret and flag are on top. Several cutouts were made for windows.

Please, my wonderful furballs, do not feel bad if your first reaction is, that’s an ugly castle! Its unattractiveness is merely a fact and not meant to be hurtful or insulting. However, please take note of the details which the architect included: a drawbridge, tassels to tug on, and the official flag of my domain. I was immediately curious and investigated.

I got in as far as the beginning of my belly, and no further. Even coaxing from Father couldn’t persuade me to enter the faux fortress.

Derek on the floor, trying to convince Miss Sugar to enter the castle, while she looks away.

Note my indifference? Father is usually full of good ideas. Not this time.

He determined the size of the entry door was the problem, so Mother doubled it. They know I’m not a fan of confined spaces and his reasoning was sound, but not good enough. I knew what they wanted me to do but I couldn’t – I just couldn’t!

Miss Sugar at the castle door, looking up at Derek who is out of sight and talking to her.

She placed treats inside which I ignored. It was not meant to be. But Mother is nothing if not tenacious and she decided to rebuild! I give you castle #2.

Miss Sugar partway into a big opening in a bigger box with the turret and flag box on top. The front of the big box has stick-on letters that read Missy's Place.

That’s me – sneaking in partway to chomp up the trail of treats, and then retreat to the safety of the carpet.

Mother will have to face it – I’m not a castle cat. You can leave a box on the floor and I won’t even be tempted to get into it. That’s not how this princess rolls. Drop a towel on the floor and I’ll appear out of nowhere like a Ninja to claim that as my own! A sheet taken off the bed and meant for the laundry? MINE! My tastes tend to lean toward softer things like the exhale of a butterfly or the warmth of a fur stole made from someone I didn’t personally know.

As of this writing, both castles have been dismantled and their materials burned in the furnace fire. Sorry Mother, but a leopard can’t change its spots and this princess cannot change her ways. I love you anyway. (But I love Father more.) Happy Belated Mother’s Day to all fur-Moms and makers of castles, tanks, and things upon which to crawl! Even if your efforts are misguided, we know they came from a place of love.

Until next week,

With love and food-breath,

Miss Sugar

3 thoughts on “Not Storming the Castle”

  1. Well, nice try Mother – thinking outside (and inside) the box.
    Cats are inscrutable. Never met a dog who preferred his bed to ours or our girl’s.
    New toys sit while old nasty ones with deceased squeakers are still the go-to.
    The dynamic, it seems, is to never be able to figure the other out.
    And that’s okay. We’re inscrutable too, I guess. And it all works out just fine.
    Nice writing again, Sugar.

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