We’ve been keeping my mother-in-law’s cat, Star, at our house for the last couple of weeks while J’s mom has been traveling. She’s a special kitty, always has been, and while we’re pretty sure she hates it here, it’s still better than sticking her in Meow Meow (the kitty equivalent of Sing Sing). She gets the whole guest room to herself here, so that our hounds can’t get to her (and so she can’t get to them, which might be more the point), and she gets fed and her litter cleaned regularly, but she still felt the need to vent. Here’s what she has to say:
It has been nearly two weeks since I was unceremoniously dumped in this, well, dump. There was no luxury kitty condo topped with Jamaica’s finest catnip awaiting me. And, no personal screened in porch with live action bird TV — no. Only two small windows looking out. Doesn’t anyone here know who I am?
And these captors of mine! Ugh! Where do I begin? For one thing, they have my door patrolled. I can hear big, ugly, clumsy feet scamper about outside my quarters, and occasionally an incredibly vile, wet-looking black nose will appear under the door. I tell them exactly what I’ll do to them should they proceed to enter, of course, and so they never do, but I’m just waiting for the day one of them decides to try me.
And then the humans! Gah! They come in to feed me, and speak to me in these soothing, cooing tones. WHAT THE HELL IS THEIR PROBLEM? DON’T THEY KNOW I JUST WANT THEM DEAD? The female one has lingered a little too long once or twice during my incarceration, and I’ve been forced to resort to my “Flying Ball of Furry Hate” plan in order to make her leave. Honestly, lady, take a hint — I couldn’t hate you more if you came in riding a dog and wearing a kitten as a hat.
Truthfully, thought, the male is no better. He actually had the gall to make rude comments about the contents of my litter box. Perhaps I’ll leave him something outside the litter box for him to find next time. Let’s see how he likes that. Bastard. Now, if I could just find one of his damn sneakers in here …
What Star doesn’t know is that her incarceration is coming to an end, so the torture will soon be over. I’m kind of sad — it’s always a contest to see who can keep her content the longest. This time, judging by the scratches on my feet and lack of any wounds on J, I think he wins. This time. I’ll figure out a way to make her love me for the next visit, though, don’t you worry.