Good day to you all, creatures. No doubt you all know me as the undisputed hero of everything and also as the owner of the creature who writes this blog. I know she has a name but that does not interest me so much. She smells of onions and flowers so I think of her as Onion Flower. She feeds me well and has a fabulous looking tail, but she keeps it at the back of her head which is very odd. Still. It is not for me to understand such primitive creatures as yourselves, rather to guide you as best I can in your life’s work of serving catkind. But I shall save that for another time.
Quite recently Onion Flower went away somewhere, she did tell me beforehand but I wasn’t really listening. There was something climbing up the wall at the time and it was a lot more interesting that Onion Flower, but quite soon I rather regretted not paying some attention. I saw the travel box being placed in the hallway and I became very wary. Last time I went in there I was taken to a strange smelling place. I did have a nice sleep, however, but when I woke up I discovered that my gentleman’s area had been decommissioned. Quite an embarrassment for any beast, although it is one less thing to worry about, I suppose. I was determined not to be fooled twice.
Regrettably, Onion Flower deployed a plan of the utmost deviousness against which I was quite powerless. She threw my most favourite mouse-rattle right into the box and I was straight in after it without even a thought. I do so hate it when she takes advantage of my natural hunting abilities in such ways. But anyway. Any hopes of receiving replacement kitten-makers were dashed when I was finally released at a place where another creature was lurking.
I recognised the smell of this creature – a powerful aroma of elderly bacon, when it has turned green – he had been to my lair before. I specifically remember him coming over as Onion Flower had made me a shepherd’s pie but for some reason she didn’t seem very happy when I ate it. She is a curious beast.
Green Bacon seemed very pleased to see me and was telling me what a wonderful time we would have together. I was doubtful. A quick sniff around his lair suggested a distinct lack of things to kill and at first it was unclear as to where my sleeping quarters were to be. Of course, I allow Onion Flower to share my nest at home as she needs to be close by in case I need feeding, or letting out or reassurance of my place at the center of the universe. I am not so sure about sharing with Green Bacon. I am rather particular about what I allow in my nest.
Luckily, I soon locate what must be my quarters – a fair-sized room at the top of the stairs with a barely adequate nest. As with any new nest, it is important to place my own scent upon it and experiment with its suitability. I was diligently going about this business when Green Bacon shooed me off quite abruptly. I can only assume this was because he wanted to warm the nest for me first and I decided to forgive this intrusion due to his obviously untrained nature. I pity the poor cat that decides to take him on, I tell you.
When I returned downstairs, Onion Flower had gone. She regularly leaves the lair, of course, but I admit to feeling quite uneasy that she had left me here. For example, I hadn’t been shown the facilities, nor had I been reassured that Green Bacon had received adequate training in chin scratching and tummy rubbing – essential elements of my upkeep, you know. Suddenly, I felt a little uneasy. I debated doing a wee near the television to relieve the tension, but settled on nibbling between my toes instead. It always helps me think.
With impeccably clean paws and, after a time, a tummy full of tuna (well done, Green Bacon) I felt able to consider my predicament somewhat more clearly. I decided that I simply cannot allow my creature to go wandering off willy-nilly. Only one thing for it! I must track down Onion Flower and insist that she return us both back to the lair.