Yesterday strangers came into my home. It’s not the first time strangers have come into my home. A few weeks back we had strangers in our home everyday. Momma said that she and Boy-Dadda needed to rent out home out because we have to move to Georgia. That’s just silly. I’m not going anywhere. This is MY house. Anyway, when the strangers came into our home a few weeks ago, Momma put Little Missy and me in our kitty carriers. Momma said that once inside, we were invisible and therefore protected. I heard her tell Boy-Dadda later that with us inside our carriers no one would get hissed at or slapped. She must have been talking about Little Missy because I would NEVER do that. (Head Shake) Nope. Not me. I’m always a very good girl. Momma says that’s especially true when I’m sleeping.
But yesterday, when the strangers came into our home, Momma didn’t put us into our carriers. I ran upstairs and hid under the bed. Little Missy took one look at them, rolled over and demanded a belly rub. Moron! Stupid and ugly, such an unfortunate combination.
This morning I came upstairs and do you know what I saw. I saw the stranger-lady holding Momma’s little thing. I went right up to her and said, “Hey! You put that back! That’s Momma’s little thing! Rude!”
Momma told me not to worry because that stranger-lady was my Aunt Sheri. I said, “Listen. Just because I reviewed her book doesn’t make us girlfriends. She shouldn’t be in my house. She’s not authorized.”
Momma said, “She is authorized. Daddy and I authorized her.”
“With out my express written consent?” I asked.
Then Momma said, “I wasn’t aware I needed your written consent.”
“Momma,” I said. “You need my permission to poop.”
Seriously? What planet has she been living on for the past four years?
Then the stranger-boy, apparently his name is Uncle Matt. He tried to pet me. I hissed at him real good. Prevert! What the hell was he thinking?
Later, Aunt Sheri and Uncle Matt left the house. Good riddance! Then Momma called Grandma. Grandma said she loved my blog. I said, “Of course you did. It’s mine.”
But Grandma told Momma that there was a spelling error in one of my book reviews. She said that I spelled flea wrong. I said, “Listen. I’m four years old and I already have acquired an extensive vocabulary. I think Grandma can cut me some slack on my occasional spelling errors. Flee. Flea. They’re dirty little buggers no matter how you spell it.
Momma did something very nice today. I had to beg her for weeks to get it, but she finally got me a Twitter account. I can tweet! It’s so exciting! My user name is @CatGwennie. It’s appropriate because I’m a cat and my name is Gwennie.
You know what I just realized? Momma’s been telling everyone I’m three when I’m actually four. I think for Christmas I’m going to get her a fact-checker. She needs it.
Okay Diary, that’s all for now. I’ve got to go. I have places to be and people to ignore. It’s a good life!