Mother. Dear mother has brought a blight onto my kingdom. This is not a cat. This is another demon dog hidden within the stub tailed thing that resembles a feline. It enjoys car rides. What self respecting cat enjoys being thrown around a the human moving contraption? His name, Armani. What a common name. Mother tells me he is “brother”. I call him peasant. I have loudly vocalized my objection to this, yet each time she leaves with him, he returns! By far the most offensive treasonous act yet.
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.
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.
Mother has decided to take a break from fostering cats. Or so she claims. The three infants have stolen the land of the bathroom from myself and my peasants. They are still sneezing. They need “additional care”. The villainous fiends are up all night running around, knocking down MY possessions, rubbing themselves on MY human.
But that is not the real problem. The cats understand that I, Bear Belefante Farrell-Decker, as their rightful Queen and savior. The newest “foster” does not have the mental ability to understand my divine worth. The new foster, the new intruder, is a demon sent straight from hell. The new foster is …. dog.
It’s been insane in my kingdom. My mother has completely and totally lost her mind. Six! Six! Six, fosters at once. She is insane. Five of them are infants, toddling around the bathroom, crapping in the shower, making all sorts of noise throughout the night. Mother proudly proclaims that she brought them back to life…. I would have preferred otherwise. On top of that she ADOPTED a kitty. The paperwork was on the table yesterday. Luckily that was short lived. The cat was for her kin. She has vacated the premises. Will this insanity ever end. Evil. That’s what this is, pure and simple evil. Look at how terrible these creatures are.