My family left me today.
My family actually leave me every day, but this is one of those times I could tell they won’t be back by night. Or the next day. Or the – I have no idea what comes after that.
It’s kind of peaceful here now, tranquil, just the way I like it; I can finally do what I want for a change, and not be woken up 15 times mid-exhausting-sleep for an unwanted cuddle.
Still: the lack of diversion is a bit of a drag. How many times can I kill the scores of fake prey they leave scattered around the place, I ask you? At least when they summon the flying point of light, it’s somewhat of a challenge for my impressive tracking skills.
The smallest member of the family also keeps things interesting: certainly no telling what that one’s going to do next.
The most pressing issue at the moment, though, is the food situation. I am embarrassingly dependent upon the giants to supply my daily fuel, so every time they get it into their huge heads to take off to parts unknown, I’m left behind with an uncertain future: if I eat everything in the bowl and no one is there to refill it, is the next step starvation? Constant conservation is the only way to deal with this, and I have learned to live with the everlasting anxiety.
What’s that? The front door unlocking? Quick, off the bed before they catch you there with a “No, no, no!” – gracefully sprint down the hall – perhaps the family came back early –
Oh no.
It’s the other one.
This giant smells like Alpha (I refuse on principle to call her “Mommy” despite her addressing herself as such) so I know she’s from the same litter, and she has encroached on this territory multiple times before.
It’s too late to hide under a bed or in a closet – the intruder has spotted me.
“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, baaaaaaabyyyyyy!!!!!!”
Ugh.
“How are you?!” I am scooped up into amateur arms – clearly, this one has not held one of my kind properly, ever. “Have you been a good little furball?”
Ew. And of course I’ve been what you arrogantly designate “good,” you imbecile – I don’t have to answer to you!
I’m carried as if I were a helpless kitten into the kitchen; only my disciplined forbearance in this treatment prevents a scene. “Have you been watching the house while everyone’s gone? Making sure no one sneaks in, heh-heh-heh?”
My patrols are completed regularly, thank you very much – and isn’t “watching the house” technically your job?!
I finally am released onto the floor, and the giant takes her sweet time getting my food in order. Never mind that I have been patiently waiting eons past the scheduled delivery time. Sure, there are plenty of the crunchy pebbles available all day, but refer to my earlier treatise on food conservation; plus, I’ve suffered enough – I want the good stuff.
Blast, I forgot about this part: lately I’d been feeling a little… off, if you will, and after a torture session where Alpha kidnapped me out of the house and allowed some stranger who smelled mainly of DOG to mishandle me terribly, now at every meal I am placed in a bodylock and a tube is shoved into my mouth with some horrific liquid forced down my throat. I have no choice but to swallow the disgusting concoction under heavy protest and no small amount of humiliation. After an unfathomable amount of time performing this new, horrendous ritual, I have been feeling a slight improvement from my prior state: I fail to see the connection.
Now the intruder giant upends a bottle, sticks the tube into the bottom for a few seconds, then hugs me in a weak semblance of the hold Alpha uses. I stretch my patience to the utmost limits in keep still for this one to get her act together, but when she starts trying (emphasis on that last word) to get the tube into my mouth, the uncertainty and inexperience in her conduct push me past my breaking point, instinct takes over, and away I flail: I regret nothing.
“There, there – ” a condescending pat on the head after the damage is done – “such a good kitty.”
If me not rightfully biting your nose after such unprofessional behavior constitutes as being “good,” then I am the best who ever lived – your pathetic affirmation is unnecessary and undesired.
After another indignity in my face being wiped with a damp cloth – I can groom myself, you know, and much better than this fumbling approximation – the goods are finally delivered and the chicken-like soft mass appears in my dish.
“What an appetite! You must be hungry!”
Well of course I’m – ! When one is not given vital sustenance until ages after their body is accustomed to receiving it, then one, logically, is hungry. You can stop talking now.
The intruder disappears somewhere while I embrace the meal – my waste depository better be emptied by the time I get there, is all I’m saying – and my subsequent bath is rudely interrupted because she’s decided she’s been here long enough and the supposed burden of my care can now wait until tomorrow to resume.
A few more ingratiating rubs to my ears, chin, back, mmmmmm....
“Bye-bye, baby! Watch the house!”
For the love of –
The door is slammed and locked.
The lone outside light does nothing for the increasingly darkening interior. Fine by me: the giants blast way too much fake sun in here anyway. It’s a relief that my eyes don’t have to adjust to the incessant glare for the nonce.
Time for a brief nap, then evening patrol, a little snack, nap, overnight patrol, do battle with that cricket in the corner again, a little snack, dawn patrol, nap, and –
The door unlocks and bursts open: “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, baaaaaaabyyyyyy!!!!!! Did you watch the house?!”
Sigh. My life is an unending trial.
When my family finally bestir themselves to return home I’m certainly going to give them an earful, right before we curl up on the couch together so they can watch the glowing noisy screen and we all fall into a blissful slumber.
Oh yes, they will pay for this dearly.
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