Here I was, ready to enjoy a peaceful Saturday with the one who feeds me. Just hanging out on the couch, on my favorite blanket, the one I like to purr and scratch on. But something wasn’t right. She kept picking me up and trying to talk directly into my face. I see her lips moving but I’m not hearing any of it. I’m a cat, did she forget? I. Don’t. Care.
This morning started out the same, except the alarm went off on a Saturday! (I know it’s Saturday because I count to six on my paws). She never does that unless…unless she’s expecting company or she’s leaving through that door, where the big machine on wheels stays that takes her away every day.
Yep, something was up. After coffee, we were just hanging out as usual, when she gets up and goes to the place where I get water – the shower.
Why is she taking a shower when she could stay in her cat pajamas? She got dressed and put on shoes too! Something’s up. And then she opened the front door, waiting for somebody. I sat in the hallway, quietly, keeping an eye on that door. She kept talking to me but again. I am a cat. I don’t care what she’s saying.
But I’m worried. What has happened to my Saturday?
And then it happened. I heard a voice at the front door.
In walked someone I recognized as a friend who visits sometimes, one of her best friends because they always laugh and laugh and I get pets on my belly from the friend but now the friend is carrying something. It’s what she who feeds me uses to take me to the doctor – a crate! There’s another cat in the crate!
Oh, paws on my food bowl – there’s a cat in my house!!
I slowly walked up to that crate and stared into the eyes of a fellow feline who looked no older than my favorite chew toy!
I’m scared and mad! But I can’t let them know I’m scared. They can only know I’m mad. I haven’t been this ticked off since I was locked out on the porch all night because she fell asleep on the couch!
Yes, this young cat is NOT going to walk around my pad. No way!
There’s only one thing to do….Conjure up my best wildcat talk and tell this furrball to stay in the crate!
I yelled and somehow managed to arch my back (pray I don’t need to go to the doctor after this…my back is killing me!). And, it worked!
They left that interloper in the crate and after a little while, I succeeded in running the crate out of the house.
How dare she assume that I would be okay with this. I don’t need a play date. I am THE HC.
She just took one of my nine lives today. I’m down to five now. I’ll tell you what took the other three sometime when I have the energy.
The HC (dammit)