Diary of a Cranky Cat – The Battle

Dear Diary,

This is has not been a good week.  Not good at all!  NOT GOOD!  BAD!  BAD, BAD!  I thought I made it perfectly I wasn’t going to Georgia.  Apparently, Momma didn’t get the memo.  Either that, or she refused to read it. 

This whole mess actually started last week Thursday.  That’s when Boy-Dadda locked Little Missy and me in the basement.  This was an all too familiar feeling.  I’ve been through this 3 or 4 times in the past.  Somehow, I just knew when we were let out that all of my stuff would be in boxes.  Oh no!  It gets worse!  By the time Boy-Dadda let us out of the basement, four days had gone by and EVERYTHING WAS GONE!  My house was completely empty!  There wasn’t even a puff ball in sight.  I have no idea if my puff balls were saved or not. 

Then came Wednesday; the day Hell froze over.  Momma came into the basement.  She put Little Missy in her carrier.  Little Missy didn’t even put up a fight.  Moron!  Then Momma began walking toward me.

“Oh Hell No!,” I screamed.  “I’m NOT GOING!”

Momma lunged for me.  I ran like hell into the bathroom, realizing quickly this was not a good idea.  Momma tried to trap me in the bathroom but I darted out in between her legs.  She just about fell over trying to get me.  The chase was on.  I hid under a small wooden work bench in the basement.  Momma got down on her hands and knees and then the fight was on.

“B#$%& Please!,” I screamed.  “What the F@#$ do you think you’re doing?  I’m not going!  I’m not going!”

Momma tried reaching for my scruff but I snapped at her with my teeth.  “I don’t F@#$%&* think so.”  I pulled away, bumping my head against the wall behind me. 

Momma reached for me again.  This time she actually got my fur.

“Let go of me!  $#%$@  $$#@$%  Hiss!  Hiss! Snarl Snarl!”  I roared with anger.  “I’m gonna S#$% in your shoes!”

I kicked and kicked and kicked, hoping my rear claws would snag Momma’s arms, making her desperately wish she’d left me alone. 

Despite my best efforts, Momma carried me over to my kitty carrier.

“I’m NOT going in there!”  I wiggled and wiggled and wiggled but I couldn’t get away.  Momma shoved me in the carrier, head first and slammed the door shut. In one final act of discontent, I slapped the inside of my carrier.

Boy-Dadda came down and grabbed Little Missy and me, in our carriers, and took us out to the car.  As we drove off, I took one last look at my house and that’s when I realized we forgot to pack the it.

Not only did I lose the battle, but now I’m homeless.

It’s a sad, sad day for me.

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