I haven’t seen my cell mate Roswell since Thursday. I’ve been looking all over the Homestead and he is nowhere to be found.
I noticed the past week he was having trouble breathing sometimes. He was tired all the time and complaining to me that his chest hurt. But like a usual, stoic feline he tried not to let the apes see that anything was wrong. Then Wednesday it was so hard for him to catch his breath that one of the apes noticed he was breathing through his mouth. I’m sure that’s why they got his travel cage out and took him away Thursday morning.
Both of us have occasionally been trapped in a travel cage and taken to the lady in the white coat to be poked and tortured. Though in the past we always got to come home in a couple of hours. This time seems different. The apes came home without Roswell and all of them have had tears in their eyes for a couple of days.
I don’t think Roswell is coming back. The thought of him not being around makes me sad too. He could be a pain in the ass sometimes but through it all he was a good companion, teacher and friend. We will all miss him.
We knew last night someone was in trouble when the ape brought that carrier cage from the basement. I looked at Roswell and he looked at me, both of us hoping it was the other one’s turn to go to the vet. Its too bad neither of us can read because there’s a name tag on the side of the carrier with a name on it. I was pretty sure it was my turn because it looked like the smaller cage that didn’t fit Roswell.
It got worse this morning when no one was letting us outside. What did we do to deserve this? After the ape with the high voice left we thought maybe they forgot. But the other one began wiping out the inside of the cage and put in a clean towel. I tried to look innocent in my cat bed but finally he picked me up and before I knew it shoved me, butt first, into the cage and carried me out to the car.
All the way to the vet I prayed to Bast that we weren’t really going there. Then I started thinking of much worse places to go so I just kept quiet and hoped he’d forget I was back there…no such luck.
What is it about apes that at the same time they say what a beautiful animal you are, they treat you so bad? The entire time they were cutting my claws they were saying what a good boy I am. If they think I’m so good why are they doing this in the first place? Again I realize it could be worse, some clown cut Roswell’s entire finger tips off years ago so he doesn’t have claws. At least mine will grow back and believe me I know just how I’m going to use them.
Then the real torture started when they started shoving pills down my throat. Well this wasn’t my first rodeo and I was able to give up quite a fight. These pills are totally unnecessary. I don’t eat worms! I eat birds and mice. Why do I need a dewormer?
One more needle in the butt and I was more than ready to go back in the cage. I think I’ll go take a nice long nap this afternoon and when I wake up I’ll be ready to make my ape let me chase the red dot.
I haven’t been around to post lately because I had a slight accident. The vet suggested that I should write about the trauma. Since the word catharsis starts with cat, I agreed.
As far as my apes know I just showed up one Sunday morning with a weird looking eye and a lot of coughing. I know what I did and I’m not telling. After all I am a cat and I don’t make mistakes. I meant to do it. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Continue reading I’m a Cat, I Meant to Do That