Sunday, May 25, 2008
It's a brilliant day, birds are chirping, squirrels, chipmunks, and even rabbits are running around the yard, but Serena's undercover. She didn't even come out to wreck havoc whilst we folded the laundry, which we do on that bed. She is being the perfect statue of a lump, and a bigger one than usual. Perhaps she's lying on a pillow? I'm curious, but I won't bug her, because her stomach's been making gurgling noises today, and I'm thankful that she's not running around and upchucking, especially since she can't seem to stay in one place while she does that.
Midnight, the previous day (Serena)
I thought the humans would never go to bed! What boring stuff they watch. Anyway, I finally got to sneak out the back, through the Tall One's scary machinery stuff. I hate that room. They keep the door closed with a skimpy rubber band, as if I can't get in and out of that. I walked down the street, where I'd knew they'd be. All the strays. I try to act relaxed, dawdle when I walk, imitating their devil-may-care sauntering. They have some great catnip. Tiger Stripes starts a small fire, and we all stand there, inhaling deeply.
At first, I'm feeling euphoric to be out of that house, with other felines, but soon, I become depressed. They ignore me, while they gossip about mutual acquaintances and similar experiences. It suddenly hits me that I'm possibly the oldest one there, and certainly the only one no longer going into heat. It's a great abyss. That's when I separate and start walking home. No one notices my departure, or wishes me a good night.
2:00 PM (Actonbell)
I'm getting hungry, so I get up and walk to the kitchen. Surprise, surprise, I'm not being shadowed by the feline one. Weird, to actually put Foot One in the kitchen and not rouse the dead. I quietly reach into the lazy Susan cabinet to pull out a can of tuna for lunch and----
Serena's fine. She's here, right at my feet. I was getting worried.