So far I don’t particularly care for sharing my blog with my siblings, but, as I have no choice, I may as well accept my situation. As they say, no sense meowing over spilt milk. Lap it up and move on.
Last night I overheard my moms talking about my person that’s away at college coming home for something called “Spring Break.” They were making plans and discussing getting her room ready for her return.
I could hardly contain my enthusiasm! This was my chance to get back in her room! I hardly slept a wink all night.
In the morning I followed LOUD Mom upstairs and watched as she opened the door. Sunlight illuminated the hallway as I hesitated at the threshold. Was this really happening? I squinted my eyes and sniffed at the musty air. Bliss.
Just then Steve sauntered past me through the doorway and jumped up on the bed, exuding an air of entitlement. Seriously?
Dejected, I returned downstairs to reclaim my window seat where I could at least watch the birds and maybe catch Baby Girl outside to tell her what just happened. Not paying attention, I jumped up on the desk and knocked into the old lady, Ethel! Ugh. I hate my life.
Ethel told me this was her spot and to go find another. I informed Ethel about what Steve had just done and pleaded with her to let me stay and watch the birds. I said that I needed to keep an eye out for my friend Baby Girl as I expected her to visit. I thought that perhaps, because of Ethel’s deep hatred of Steve, she might feel bad for me and offer to share. Yeah, right.
Ethel crowed that Steve was a good-for-nothing scoundrel and it’s my own fault that I let him walk all over me. She said Baby Girl already came by looking for me and she ordered her to scat, telling her I didn’t have time for her nonsense. Then Ethel told me to “sashay away” and find a window of my own. (She’s watched a few too many reruns of RuPaul’s Drag Race — for costume ideas.)
So I jumped down and headed to the living room to sit on the back of the sofa near the reject birdfeeder to watch the Spartan-like sparrows fight one another over the limited number of perches. With a tinge of sadness, I realized the sparrows’ bouts parallel my own challenges in finding a perch of my own.
Rounding the corner into the living room I spotted Eggnog sitting on the arm of the sofa watching the birds. Since when does Eggnog care about the birds?! Besides, she can go outside whenever she wants and chase them! Life is so unfair.
I didn’t have it in me to argue with her. I’d probably lose anyway. She might be tiny, but she’s got a lot of spunk.
Just as I was dozing off, here comes Sherman barking orders! He commanded me to get out of his crate. When I protested that it was empty and he doesn’t sleep in there during the day, he said he didn’t want me stinking up his bed with my “noxious feline odor.”
Wandering aimlessly for a spot to call my own, I passed the still open door of my person who’s away at college’s room. Instead of Steve, I spotted Walter on the pillow watching out the window.
Walter must have heard me because he glanced my direction, stood up, and started wagging his tail. That sent me on high alert: Was he going to make chase?!
To my surprise, Walter asked if I wanted to join him on the bed. I was a little wary that this might be a trap, but my overwhelming desire to be in my most favorite spot in the whole world won out.
As Walter and I watched outside, I thanked him and told him how Steve had stolen my thunder, then asked if he knew where Steve had gone. Walter said not to worry, he’d relocated Steve to a spot much better suited to his lot in life.