I brought a Ball!
It even squeaks!
I brought a Ball!
It even squeaks!
I got lost–real lost. The ground below me was hard and hot and impossible to dig.
I’d almost given up when a Human saw me in the middle of what he called the “street” and placed me in a bucket.
I didn’t exactly love the bucket, but I guess it’s better than what Human Daddy says would have happened to me if I’d remained in the “street.”
Things looked up a bit when the Humans set up what Human Mommy calls my “temporary luxury suite.”
I mean, it’s okay–not exactly “luxury,” but maybe 3 stars out of 5.
The Humans have promised me an outdoor Turtle enclosure. This sounds much preferable to my 3-star suite.
In the meantime, I’ll be burrowing myself in my new substrate. (Good call on the substrate, Humans.)
I can’t wait to move to my outdoor Turtledom.
Chop, chop Humans!
–Princess Box Turtle (who thus far lacks a name and is not pleased about this)
Puppy Eyes work great for some things, like convincing your Humans you deserve a game of Frisbee or speeding up the delivery of your dinner.
You know what Puppy Eyes can’t do? Puppy Eyes can’t fix Stella’s knee and they can’t speed up her return from orthopaedic surgery.
We will be apart until Friday.
We’ve never been apart more than a couple hours, not ever, since we first met.
It was love at first sniff.
I love Stella with all my heart.
Dear Readers, please send positive energy for her surgery and speedy recovery. We love you all so much.
I miss my Girl so very, very much.
Woofs and Wags,
Hello! My name is Luna. Aunt Amber says that I am the “and counting” part of “seven cats and counting.” Human Daddy says I am number eight.
I was curled up snugly under 4 tons of lumber last week when I let out a piteous series of mewls. I was hungry–there were fewer bugs in my mountain of lumber than I had anticipated.
Someone heard me. The noise stopped. There is a lot of noise in a lumber yard, but for a while it paused.
Soon low Human voices replaced the scary noises. Several Humans were colluding, trying to figure out how to get me out of my mountain.
Human Daddy’s voice was the strongest. He didn’t say the most, but I knew he was in charge. The other Humans deferred to him the way other Cats deferred to my Mama Cat.
I was kind of trapped in my wooden mountain, but even if I hadn’t been, I probably would have stayed put just to pin something real to my hope.
It took a long time. The Humans used a machine, a forklift I’ve heard them call it, to lift away each layer of my mountain, one by one by one until Human Daddy reached in and scruffed me, almost just like Mama Cat did.
I relaxed. I was happy.
Then Human Daddy put his other hand under my back legs. Mama Cat never did that. I freaked out.
Human Daddy let go of me. There may or may not have been some swearing.
I found my way under another mountain of wood.
There were no tasty bugs under this mountain either. I was hungry again. I would have mewled, but I remembered what happened last time, and I choked on my hope like a hairball.
Then I heard it. There were Kittens, melwing just like me. They were talking about how hungry they were. A Mama Cat answered them, not my Mama Cat, but a Mama all the same, promising milk.
I ventured out.
Human Daddy was there. He was holding something, a smartphone I’ve heard the Humans call it. The smartphone was mewling through a kitten app, as the Humans call it.
I let him scruff me again.
He put me in a cage that smelled of Woofies. Another Human brought me tuna.
That afternoon, Human Daddy brought me home.
I am thankful for my warm room, the bowls of food, the multiple cat beds, my two boxes, my balls, my stuffed mouse and most especially my mouse attached to a wire that Human Mommy moves for me whenever I demand it.
Most of all, I’m thankful that I managed to pin my hope down with a sharp claw, to make it real.
I’m thankful my hope became real love.