The Moms at my house were very busy in November and December. I enjoyed the beautiful decorations while I listened to LOTS of piano and flute music. Sometimes Mom Deb plays very high notes, and I circle around her feet, hoping she’ll stop, but evidently she thinks I like them!
I should have known something was afoot when a black case appeared in the basement. I sniffed it when my Moms weren’t looking, and decided to steer clear of it. Then one morning after breakfast, Mom Deb put me in it and carried me to the truck. I tried hard to see through the case, but the mesh sides made it difficult. She didn’t let me out until we were in a little white room. It had lots of smells, and some of them might have come from dogs! I was about to get back in my carrier when a nice lady came through the door. She had a soothing voice and nice hands, so I didn’t mind her too much until she jabbed something sharp into my hind quarters. I heard Mom Deb ask about car sickness and drugs, but I was too busy licking my wound to pay close attention.
Things seemed to return to normal, but I should have been suspicious when my Moms started piling a lot of bags and boxes in the hallway. The next thing I knew, they put me in the carrier again and put me in the back seat of the car, which was full of other stuff. I tried to stay awake, but Mom Deb kept driving and driving so I took a nap. When I awoke, we were in Tennessee at an older lady’s house. She liked talking to me, and I found a lot of places to explore, even her bedroom. We were there several nights, and I got pretty brave except for on Christmas day when lots of kids were there.
As you can see in this picture, I’m eying the floor, trying to plan my escape route. I’ve never been a cuddly kind of kitty, probably because of my childhood, which started in a barn in northwest Ohio. I was the runt of the family, but my mother and several siblings were killed by a coyote. Somehow I survived until a kind old lady found me and started bringing milk and scraps to the barn. During the day I hopped through the bean fields searching for mice. To make a long story short, the woman grew to old to live alone on a farm, and her daughter gave me a new home in Indiana. Since I grew up in the wild, I wasn’t used to being held or petted. As long as my Moms had other kitties, this wasn’t a problem, but since they died I’ve gotten a lot of attention–too much if you ask me. Every time I turn around, they’re trying to pick me up.
After we left Tennessee, I began to suspect the car was my new home. My stomach felt queasy when I looked out the front of my carrier, so I spent a lot of time facing the rear of the car and dozing. We stopped at a “pet-friendly” hotel but there were so many smells in the room (and spots on the floor) that I went on strike and wouldn’t eat or use my box. The next day I was quite happy to be in my carrier again, even if it meant more riding in the car.
When we finally stopped moving and my Moms opened the door, it was warm and humid outside. I like sunshine, and hoped they would let me out so I could find a nice spot for a nap. Instead, they took me inside and left me in my carrier while they unloaded the car. When they finally let me out, I was so tired I curled up on the couch and went to sleep. If you ask me, you can never have too many naps.
I don’t know how long we’ll be here, but it’s much nicer than riding in the car and I’ve found lots of new places to explore. Sometimes I sit on my condo on the lanai watching little dogs walk by on the street. I take great satisfaction in knowing they can’t see me. I’ve overheard my Moms talking about something called a gecko, but I haven’t seen one yet.
One thing that hasn’t changed is the music. My Moms love it, and if they aren’t inviting friends over to play with them, they are playing songs for me. About the only time they stop is when they are biking, writing, or going to band or dulcimer practice.
Don’t tell them, but I saw a penny whistle on the shelf the other day, and it looks about the right size for me.