I’ve been on the road again, and I must say, it’s been a perilous journey.
A few months ago I was abruptly stuffed into a crate and placed into a filthy, crowded car by Father Raysor. This is not the standard moving procedure I am accustomed to. He asks me to call him Dad, but I’m waiting to see his level of commitment on paper. This isn’t my first “Call Me Dad” rodeo.
The level of care I got from Father Raysor on the road was abysmal. I do not like to travel, and I do not like the wire casket. Even Meowmy could do better, but she was nowhere to be seen. I feared she had finally succumbed to her erratic lifestyle and perished in an accident. Or, was I being abducted?
The days passed in a disorienting nightmare. I was fed drugs with every meal. It seemed I was going to be trafficked. We were in and out of cheap motels like Thelma and Louise, dodging daylight and passerby. I awoke to a different landscape and varying will to live each morning.
Finally, we reached our destination, and I was released from my casket. I found myself in a gorgeous home on the ocean front. Was Father Raysor embezzling? My confusion was unending.
There were other humans living in the house too, and even another cat. I became fast friends with this feline, Ziggy, even though we come from substantially different backgrounds. Ziggy was an outdoor cat, and he lured me onto the deck, adamant this was the best place to bide our time and roll on nip.
Meowmy had never allowed me to romp about outdoors, let alone to be outdoors unsupervised. She had researched the life expectancies of indoor versus outdoor cats, and my habitat was thus limited long ago.
Father Raysor was not so concerned.
I have now discovered that the outside is stressful. Waves crashing, unidentified noises, burning sun. While Father Raysor clearly did not care to abide by Meowmy’s wishes, I honored them and stayed near the door to the house. Sure, I was outside, but I wasn’t on the railing! I wouldn’t go near the ledge! I would not flaunt my careless dismissal of rules and reason, as Ziggy did!
Alas, rules and reason be damned, I found myself in an empty apartment. With another abrupt trip in the wire casket gone was Father Raysor, gone was Ziggy, gone was the ocean front sunshine. For ten days a human came and went through this apartment, but we had little interaction. When my water was dirty I would scratch him until he refilled it. When my food was low, I scratched again. Our system was functional, but this does not a keeper make!
I feared the worst, after all this time, was I back at square one? Beginning my life anew in the perilous care of this stranger?
Luckily, Meowmy returned with Father Raysor before I took any desperate action. She brought along the blonde mutt baby, but I expected as much should I see her again. The stranger has remained in the apartment, but now that I understand he will not keep me, I do not mind.
Once again I have settled into my predictably uncertain circumstances with Meowmy. I wonder how long it will be before we are on the road yet again. Given our flight pattern of a different home each year since my birth, I will prepare for April, at the latest.