2665 MILES 12 STATES TWO CRAZY WOMEN AND 5 DAYS

I think I really should write an entry from the cats point of view.  This is as follows…..

Day one – Olive, Eleanor and I (Smitty Kitty) have lived happily in Portland on a quiet street on Mount Tabor, living a life of ease.  When all of a sudden our mom picks us up one by one, squirts some nasty tasting liquid in our mouths and shoves us in a dog pen.  What humiliating experience is this?  What have we done that we are so cruelly treated?  What is going on?  I quickly think of these things until I start to feel relaxed, slightly woozy and stop caring.  They load us in the back of the car, with boxes, bags and blankets packed around us so we can’t see out and off we go.

Hours pass and I’m holed up in a cage with my two crazy sisters.  Eleanor and I decide to use the small one, Olive, as a mattress.  Alls fair in love and war.

We finally come to a stop and for some unexplained reason are picked up, still in the dog pen and escorted into a strange room,  The door to the cage is opened and we are allowed to get out.  What the heck?  Where are we and how did we get here?  Mom is with us as well as that red-headed friend.  They tuck into bed, we climb on top and that ends the first day.

Second day, drugged again, caged again and transported to the back of the car.  The engine starts and off we go.  Where are we going?  Hours and hours of sleeping, waking, and trying to get someones attention.  But that liquid has made me a little bit goofy and my cries only come out as small yowls.  The sisters are no different.  Another strange room, another bed.

Day three, same song.  I’m starting to fight the drugs, man.  I clench my jaw together so tightly I start to get a headache.  When I finally think I beat the system, I try to say something and that red-head shoots the stuff clear to the back of my throat.  I have no choice but too swallow.  I’m beginning to hate her.  As I slip into a semi drugged state I think back to home, sweet, sweet home.  Will I ever see it again?

Day four.  I am beginning to loose all will to live,  Despair has set in.  I consult my sisters and they feel the same.  We are too drugged to say anything.  Our only hope is that this is but a dream.  I am starting to accept my fate and actually look forward to the drugs.  How long can this possibly go on?  I consult the others and we agree, we hate both of those women equally.

Day five and I find myself wondering when I can get some more of that Gabapentin, as they call it.  I am afraid I have become dependent on it.  

Five hours later we turn into a driveway and are lifted out.  Mom says it’s our new home.  I don’t think so.  I want to go home.  But, it would be nice to be able to roam around something bigger than a single room.  Excitement grabs me as I anticipate our release.  And then the proverbial door slams shut and we are locked in a dark concrete basement.  Oh, no, you didn’t just do that.  Are you kidding me?  

Depression grabs a hold of me and I long for the days of drugs and hotel rooms.  Please, oh please, just one more hit.  I’ll be good, I promise.  Just a little liquid on my tongue.  Yowl.

I just heard a rumor that the red-head will be flying home in a couple of days,  Now, how am I going to get on that plane with her.  I really don’t care about the sisters.  It’s every cat for himself.