My life used to be quite simple. I had Cat to meet my every need and Big Stupid to boss around when I was in the mood. Then Cat brought in a kitten -- which she gave the ridiculous name of Bitsy -- and then the Blond moved in. The Blond is no stranger; she used to sleep at our house every night before she disappeared for months. I figured she was out prowling the neighborhood, but I overheard Cat saying The Blond had gone to live in Ohio.
Cat goes to Ohio. Big Stupid goes to Ohio with Cat sometimes. Me, I stay here and protect the premises.
When The Blond came back from Ohio, she started living with us. That was okay. The Blond leaves me alone and I hiss only occasionally at her. But shortly after The Blond brought all her stuff to our house, she brought in a kitten. A black one. A girl with the ridiculous name of Batman.
I watch TV. I know who Batman is. He lives in a cave and fights crime. The Batman in my house does neither one.
She and Bitsy have become BFFs, which means I have to tolerate both of them at the same time. They eat my food. They use my litter box. They sleep on Cat's bed with Big Stupid and they even sleep in the bathroom sink, which everyone knows is there for my naps only.
It's been four months since the Terrible Two invaded my home, and they act like they own the place now. I've tried to show them the way, but hissing, spitting and swatting them doesn't seem to make a difference. I sit on my place on the newel post and stand guard, yet they continue to knock things over, investigate the potted plants and turn everything they find into a toy.
Please don't tell Cat, because she still thinks I'm the queen of all things, but I've grown to kinda like Bitsy and Batman. I've even joined in their games and although I still hiss when they get fed before me, I really don't mind that much. After all, they need someone to teach them how to become fierce felines, and Big Stupid is not up for the job.
The Blond caught me grooming Batman the other day. I immediately jumped away and hissed, but it was too late. She know my secret. And, I fear, she'll spill the beans to Cat.
So I'm planning my escape from the house. Perhaps one of them will hold the door too long when they leave or someone will keep it open too long bringing in those bags of food. I'll be out in a flash and do what I have to do.
I see no choice but to bribe The Blond to keep her from telling Cat that I really don't hate the kittens at all. And I figure if I can just get outside, I'll be able to find the perfect gift as a hush offering. A nice mouse perhaps or ... yes, I know the perfect thing!
The Blond and Cat talk often about the pigeons that light on the roof. I bet The Blond would be thrilled if I could catch one and take it to her in the basement, alive and wiggling, so she could have a pet pigeon of her very own.
P.S. Cat has a new book coming out this month! Watch for "Keeping Secrets" from Turquoise Morning Press!