Excuse me, please, for being miffed, but Cat has done it again.
Yes, she has totally rocked my world by bringing a kitten to live in MY house. She's given the thing the ridiculous name of Bitsy (as in itsy bitsy kitsy cat, a phrase she uses to torment me,) Yes, the new creature is tiny but she is also cute. And one thing I cannot tolerate is cute.
Cats are supposed to be dignified creatures. I do my best to uphold that image. I refuse to be cradled like a baby, carted around like a sack of potatoes or be dressed in silly costumes while my picture is being taken. Did the cats that guarded Egyptian royalty wear frilly dresses? I think not.
Cat can see no wrong with this Bitsey creature. Sure, she sometimes scolds fit or climbing curtains or chewing on power cords, but she thinks it's cute when the thing tries to catch the images on her computer. Let me try that, and all I get is a "Tabby, get down!"
At least Cat has the good sense to feed the intruder away from me. I'm being forced to share the litter box, which is bad enough. Do you know how humiliating it is to be using the box while that big-eyed little thing watches?
Cat swears that eventually, I'll like Bitsy. In fact, she has even gone so far as to tell the other People who come to the house that Bitsy is supposed to be my companion. Really!
Big Stupid, the dog calls Maggie, naturally adores the stupid kitten. She attempts to play with it, even though her paw is as big as Bitsey's entire body, and lets it sleep on Cat's bed at night.
Do I get to sleep with Car? No. Big Stupid has a hissy fit and barks and growls until Cat yells and I'm forced to leave.
I attempted to escape this horrid situation, but something even worse happened outside. The Sara Thing that lives next -- I believe she's Cat's offspring -- came over last night. I rushed through the front door before she could shut and sniffed the sweet air of freedom. Oh, but not for long.
The Thing from next door opened the back door, my usual entry after I managed to get outside, and called the cats from her house. Noel I can almost tolerate. But Chica hates me; the feeling is mutual.
Before I could even chew grass or jump the fence to next door, those cats were heading toward me, growls rolling from them. Chica had evil in her eyes so in self-defense, I had no choice but to go back into the house where that wretched little kitten had presumed to take control.
The lack of respect by all concerned was appalling, but I'm going to forgive them this time. But next time, they're in for the full Tabby temper tantrum, I swear.
P.S. I still haven't been featured in any of Cat's books. This fall, when her new novel "Keeping Secrets" is published, I sincerely hope she's rectified that mistake. Or at least not made Big Stupid or Bitsy a chaacter.