Harold and Maude

I have to tell you how angry and disappointed I am. My dinner was so late that it was dark outside when they returned. They told me they were going out to get me a surprise, so I let the late dinner slide. But then they came home with my surprise, and I just wanted to jump up on that knick-knack shelf and knock every smashy thing onto the floor!

The female scratched my head and said, "Harold, this is Maude! You have a new friend!"

Another cat! Seriously? Why would they think that was a good idea? Don't they know by now that cats are solitary creatures? There are no cat herds or cat packs

Not only is it another one, but it came from a shelter? Yuck. I'm from here! I was born right under our porch. I belong, and those two people should be ashamed to treat me this way! That scruffy thing needs to learn her place!

Wait, my dinner is finally in my bowl. What? That other one has a bowl just like mine? This gets worse by the minute. Oh my lord, they're putting canned food in her bowl! I almost never get canned food, except for my birthday and when they put that tree in the living room. I like that tree.

I don't care if she's just a baby. I want some too. I'll show them and just push my way in and eat… OW! She hit me, and I think I'm going to cry. She might be tiny, but that was quite a swat, no warning, claws out and all. This is what happens when they start bringing low-class dumpster strangers into a home.

I have half a mind to just go to that homeless camp in the park and surprise them. I sneak out sometimes and go there. They are so nice to me. If I yelled loud enough and maybe limped or dragged a leg, one of them would try to save me, and I'll lead them right up the porch steps. Imagine the surprise on their faces, right?

He'll say, "Hey, I'm Leroy. Is this your cat? I think he's hurt, and I was worried he'd get hit by a car or something." or "Hey, I'm Sadie from the park over there, and I think this is your cat, and he needs to see a vet." She'd know, too, because she's a vet–just a different kind. Sadie gave me a bowl of water when it was hot out. I think they like me better over there than here. They don't care if I barf on their grass or scratch on stuff. They all pet me and say, "Aw, what a pretty kitty. Are you lost?"

Oh great, now she's sniffing me. I don't want her to swat me again, so I'll just sit still and growl a bit, the severe low warning growl. I don't think I've ever used that one before. Good, she's backing off. I better follow her to see what she's up to. No! She's climbing up the side of the bed, using her claws on the silk duvet! And leaving little pull holes in it. Those two should come to see this, and she'll be out on her street cat fanny. Here they come. It's over now, missy!

Really? Do they think desecrating the sacred coverlet is cute? I climbed a curtain the other day, and all hell broke loose. The male tried to lift me off and startled me, so I climbed up that flimsy thing and sat on the rod that held it. Then he tried to coax me down, and the female said, "Be careful. If he falls from up there, he might hurt himself!" So, I jumped right onto the table next to the sofa and accidentally bumped into her cup of tea and some splash onto the wood on purpose. After that nightmare, I needed a long nap and squeezed under the couch when they weren't looking. They searched for me and called my name for a long time, but no canned food, no peace! After they went to bed, I waited for a bit, then jumped on the male's stomach. He just said, "Ooof!" and rolled over. I tried to settle between them. But guess what? The street brat was there too! So I laid on top of her, and she tried to nurse on me! That was awkward. She didn't even mind that I was on top of her. She purred!

Day 2

I woke up this morning, and it was still dark. I heard purring. Was I purring in my sleep? Oh, it's the kid. She's snuggled up under my tail! I'll stretch and meow for my breakfast, then use the litter box. Oh geez, now she's crying, "help! I can't get off of here? Don't leave me?" She should have thought of that before she cliff-climbed her way up there.

Was that a thud? I better go back and check because those two up there are still snoring. Oh geez, she got down by herself! That's pretty gutsy for someone so young. Here she comes. I bet she'll follow me everywhere now, even under the sofa. But not outside! I need my space.

Great, she's too small to climb into the litter box–MY litter box! Is nothing sacred anymore? She'll just have to poo on the floor; they'll know it's hers because it will be baby poo! Now I can't even pee in private. She's down there crying again. I'll just look over the side. "Help? I miss my brothers and sisters and my Mama. Help?" Just look at that little face. She is kind of cute. Maybe I'll j lift her up by her scruff like my Mama did when she'd carry me back under the porch. I was a wanderer. Merfff! There, she's in and sniffing around. I hope they get her a box of her own, though, because they don't clean mine enough as it is, just once in the morning and once at night, or more if I've eaten something dead, like a mouse. Will ya' look at that! She pooped and is covering up! I'm impressed. I thought I'd have to teach her everything.

Hey, I'll jump out and leave her in here, then eat her canned food! Oh, there she goes again, "Help me? Come back! Get me out of here? I'm scared." She's awfully needy for a shelter cat, but she smells okay. It could have been worse. They might have brought a puppy home. And I do get lonely. I better go get her out of there. All that crying is making me sad.