Yesterday was the worst day of my life. The captors were angry with me yesterday, because I escaped last Tuesday. I thought that escaping in the rain storm would cover my tracks. The captors have no sense of smell or night vision, so it was a toss up on success. Instead, the crazy large captors, known as "mom" and "dad" stopped at nothing. They were out in the rain and lightening looking for me, calling my name, and doing the one thing I cannot resist, shaking a bag of treats to tempt my peaceful return without hostages. I showed them, I stayed out all night, and was actually safe and dry in the garage. The captors shed crocodile tears that day I tell you, I heard the mom crying over my escape. All in all it went well, but at five a.m., the mom called my name again outside, and I could not resist and I meowed and they found me and returned me to the house, pretending joy at my discovery.
Anyway, we, the captors and I, have been in a standing pattern (except for some frightening floor vacuuming) until yesterday, when they retaliated. I have long fur, which I like to lick clean and then puke up on their couch. So the mom put the smallish captors in charge of my punishment. I was bathed. Then groomed. My fur smells like shampoo!
I showed them. This morning, I puked on the kitchen floor. My plans worked well, because the mom captor stepped directly into it on her way to the coffee maker. This day, I tell you, is looking up.
-Mr. Kitty, a 19 pound declawed mutt of a longhaired grey cat who has no idea that the neighborhood racoons would take his eunuch declawed ass out like butter.