Warmth slowly returns to the world and with it, my kingdom expands. Mother has taken to bringing home orphans. Pathetic mewling creatures that cannot even defecate without her assistance. She has become a slave to the little creatures. While she walks around, sleep deprived and desperate, I slink by. These precious creatures are my future. I tell them of my divine superiority. I teach them to follow, to blindly listen. Even though they do not stay, they spread the word of my beauty, brilliance and perfection. Each group of motherless kittens only spreads my power further. I have seized my chance. They know no greater cat than I. All hail Queen Bear.
Many a moon has passed in the wake of my last post. Countless fosters have come and gone. The internally damned dog still curses us with her unending presence. Yet. Hurt prevails. My subjects. My pathetic, impure, unworthy subjects. Their number has changed.
Shock. Utter and intense shock. We could have never known, never understood. Even now, I do not know what crimes I could have committed to rain such terror down on my people.
I miss her. The house has changed, the air itself missing an essential component. There will never be another, never a way to fill her absence.
FIP. We received the diagnosis almost a year ago. Mommy cried. She screamed and sobbed. Daddy did too. Hurt poured off of them and in the wake of their pain, I abdicated my throne, letting another take my sacred place.. as Princess.
The counters! The sacred counters! She roamed across them taking food from their very plates a feat even I cannot manage. She fought the medicine, spitting out the pills, taking them out but they persisted and for a time, my sister returned.
The house laughed, we forced down our fear and pain. She would not allow us to mourn. We acted as though the treatment worked. We pretended the vet was wrong and diagnoses wasn’t terminal.
They took her away on a warm autumn day. She stopped eating once more. She slept all day and no longer ran to welcome them home. She told them, with kisses to the face and a rub to their neck, that it was time.
I miss my sister. I miss my friend. I miss the most loyal of my subjects.
Hurt heals with time. Perhaps the sting will fade. She’s here with me serving me still. The sun, orange just like her warms my fur. I follow Mommy around, clinging to her in our shared grief.
Marmie. Your body may have failed, but your souls survives. In our hearts and in our memories.
Our Kingdom lost a valuable member late last year. Rest well. We will never stop loving you.
I pity the lack of intelligence in the beast they call Nanook dog. She sits at the window pining away for MY mommy. Clearly she does not understand that mommy will always come back. She has no choice. She belongs to me. She obeys my will. Besides, she has to continue to rain food down from the heavens as tribute.
The sun blazed down in a fire of glory the day that I was born. Birds sang out, pledging the sacrifice of their young to sustain my brilliance. The divine ruler laid the crown of catnip on my brow ordaining my right to rule over my lessers.
The twins are obviously unintelligent. Why would the sink so low as to actually share the sacred spot of the top of the cat tower? It would churn my sensitive stomach, if I wasn’t quite so comfortable on the significantly taller tower gifted to me on the anniversary of the beginning of the world; my birth.
Mommy thinks they’re cute. Mommy thinks they should snuggle more. Mommy likes the fact they are twinsies.
While comfortably lounging in my recent conquest, I have had much time to contemplate the most recent additions to my kingdom. These “fosters” are quite unlike the fosters before. They are not riddled with the plague. They have not come and gone in a timely manner either. No, instead the noises coming from the room have steadily grown from pathetic, high pitched mewls to the loud rumble tumble of little feet.
They arrived six weeks ago. Two carriers holding, what I believed were two cats. Except I heard mommy say there were three more, tucked beneath their Mommy’s protective paws.
For the first month, we heard very little. The kits grew from newborns, gaining strength each and every day. They’re fuzzy and indistinct but maybe Just maybe I might be starting to like the furry little fuz balls. As long as they stay out of my reach.
We were seven. Born in the putrid stench of trash mingling with exhaust. There was no Mommy. Only brothers and sisters squirming around, mewing in hunger. Sirens echo through our memories. We don’t speak of the darkness. We don’t speak of the fear.
I’ve been watching. I know what she does not. I saw each of our siblings succumbed to the void. We were seven. Only three made it out of the city. Only two made it into foster. I kept my sister safe. I protected her fiercely. She tells me to lighten up. She tells me to relax. She hasn’t seen what I have seen. She doesn’t know the truth.
I see. I know the truth. Pets will be permitted, but even the humans that nursed us back to health cannot be trusted.
We were seven. Now we are two. What happens when we’re one?