A couple days ago the curmudgeon told you all about the move from the Compound to our new life here on the Homestead. He’s wallowing in blissful ignorance thinking my cell mate Roswell the Maine Coon and I are happy here. He thinks just because we have a sun room and an outdoor cage that we have to get to through a tunnel that we are happy kitties. Well I’m here to tell you it’s not so!
The first thing the curmudgeon neglected to tell you was that Mother-of-Snowball has a dog. He’s a noisy little half Yorkshire Terrier and half Poodle named Jacques. She calls it a yorkie-poo and I think the emphasis should be on poo. Anytime someone just goes near the front door he starts jumping and barking. But when an ape actually comes in the door he does nothing but sniff them. Its like he’s not a guard dog – he’s just a monitor dog. He only tells you when someone is stealing your stuff. To add insult to injury he’s my size and black like me. If he didn’t smell so different we could brothers from different mothers. Plus he thinks he is the house disciplinarian. Whenever I pluck the furniture instead of my scratching post, the dog barks at me and the apes yell at me to stop.
The curmudgeon also told you how much we like watching the birds in the garden. That is total B.S. Yes there’s lots of birds and other prey out there but what good is watching them if we can’t get to them? If I live to be thirty I will hate being “a healthy indoor cat”. This morning a rabbit was eating the grass not five feet away from the window for twenty minutes and all I could do was watch and remember the sweet taste of rabbit tartar.
One day a bird did a low fly by and Roswell forgot about the glass. The result was a loud bang when his head hit the window and the apes had the gall to laugh at the poor guy.
In a further effort to keep us inside the curmudgeon was planning on putting these lame-ass signs about preventing fugitive felines on all the doors but his printer ran out of ink before he could get them printed. He probably would have gotten sued by the forestry department anyway because they were a direct rip-off from smokey the bear. Don’t worry, Roswell and I know every door in the place and we are just waiting for any opportunity for escape. And I think I may be getting the timing down for the closer on the front door.
We’ve each made it once out to the garden on separate occasions; but better than Lt. Gerard chasing Dr. Kimble, the curmudgeon found us and brought us back into custody. Well, tomorrow is another day and I know that rabbit is still out there.