I don’t care what you might say about my ancestors coming from the seering savannahs of Africa, it’s been too damned hot for too long around here. Ronni doesn’t like air conditioning and she hardly ever turns it on. I know it’s my job to keep the birds from breaking through the screen door to attack Ronni, but too bad, she's on her own. The best I can do in this heat is lie here and hope.
It was hot last week, too, when Ronni unceremoniously dropped me off at David Baird’s place and then left for six whole days. I was so mad, I sat on David’s cowboy boots in the back of his closet for the first two days and wouldn’t come out.
After the second night, David grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and dragged me out. I was really hungry by then, so I had some crunchies in the kitchen and then I found some of my favorite toys from home scattered around the living room and it felt good to stretch my muscles in a good romp chasing a few mousies and some cellophane.
Then the heat got to me, so I settled down on David’s excellent, black sofa that nicely shows off my spots. If I’d realized how good I look there the first day, I wouldn’t have hidden in the closet for so long.
Something big is going on around here and I don’t like it. For two weeks before my trip to David’s house, there was this guy, Jimmy Flynn, who scattered all kinds of tools and equipment around the house. I had to guess where my litter box might be every day because Ronni kept moving it to different places while Jimmy pounded and banged and painted and stuff. Geez – it was so noisy around here, I couldn’t have a decent afternoon nap.
And now that she’s home, Ronni has stuffed me in my carrier (Note to Ronni: I need a new carrier – I’ve almost outgrown this one) three times and taken me out for a couple of hours to someone else’s house. She says it’s because people are looking at our home to see if they want to buy it, but don’t you think the house would be a lot more attractive if there were a cat as beautiful as I am showing them all the good places there are to stash their toys?
I'm not very clear yet what all this "selling the house" means for me, but the way life is going around here lately, it probably won't be to my liking. The only positive thing I can say about it all is that both Jimmy and David are good guys. They know how to appreciate a cat like me and snoozing on David’s sofa is almost as comfy as the pillows on Ronni’s bed.
But basically, I’m one pissed off cat. Strangers poking their noses in all my nooks and crannies, too much noise, too much heat. And worse, Ronni says she’s going away again at the end of July.
When will it all end…