Happy Fifth Anniversary!!!

It has been 5 years as of today! Five years out of the insane asylum with all those abused, lonely strays all clamoring to get the attention of anyone remotely interested in adopting a friend.

When I saw Matt coming I leapt to the front of the crowd of cats, pushing them out of the way, and furiously brushing up against his leg (actually, I did no such thing. I ran and hid from him --he's very, very tall, you see). He reached down and picked up Cookie, a cat looking much like me, and she growled. So he quickly put her down again and just stood there. Then the ladies that ran the joint grabbed other cats to show him, but he wasn't interested in them.

He walked about here and there, finally making his way to the back of the room where I was. I looked up at him and meowed. He ignored me. Then one of the ladies brought me over to the shelf and Matt came over and checked me out. I purred and meowed and brushed against his hand, and then I jumped over to him on his shoulders. I've no idea what possessed me to do that, but I guess I wanted to be tall, too.

"We have a percher!" One of the ladies shouted and giggled. So Matt had the lady take me out for a test drive since I would be going with Matt on the road. He wanted to see how I reacted to riding in a machine. I didn't like it, but I didn't puke or cry, or even scratch anyone. I just laid low and waited for it to end. Then they brought me back and I ran and hid under the table.

Next thing I know I'm being selected and put in a box with little holes for the tall fellow to take home. Finally,...after 11 months of living in a cage most of the time, I had a home. But I had no idea what was going to come next...

I got used to the stop and go, sway to the right and left, and close quarters with a human full time, after only a day or two. The first day I hid my head under Matt's pillow on his bed. But after that I road on the dashboard mostly, feeling awestruck by the ever changing view. Then after a while it didn't seem to change all that much. Same stuff each day. But after 5 years of this I wish Matt would get another job. I like being home with all my toys and want to stay here.

Things Could Be Worse...

We're sitting in New Stanton, PA, waiting for the lumpers to unload our trailer load full of Clorox products, and pondering the meaning of life. For me, it's being able to flop my gloriously lazy, furry body on Matt's pillows and laptop computer case and have no care what-so-ever in the world.

For Matt, it's to pass his blood pressure test tomorrow morning. He's fretting. He almost always passes it, but he frets anyway. It must be the "almost" part that gets him fretting.

But I don't have to worry about such things, only that Matt doesn't abandon me like my last owner. This would mean that I would starve and slowly wither away and die. I would have no predisone administered to me to reduce my inner inflammation, allowing me to eliminate waste matter (poo) properly. In laycats terms, I'd get bound up with a thousand fur balls. It wouldn't matter what someone fed me, or what wonderful dumpster I'd eat out of. Oh, I miss dumpsters...like a grande buffet: dead rats, fish heads, and thousands of other surprises just waiting for me to sample them.

So I lay there....and wait for the next bout of excitement...or the next meal...or the next fly to buzz by me...and I just live.