Mom was behaving in an awfully suspicious manner the other day. After watching TV at lunchtime, she got out the PTU (Prisoner Transport Unit aka pet carrier). I was worried that she was going to put me in it, but she left the house with it empty! Very strange. Perhaps she was taking it to the dump to get rid of it. Good idea, I thought.
A long time later she returned. But it wasn't empty any more. She set it down on the floor for me to see what was in it. I couldn't believe my eyes and nose!
I was flabbergasted! Mom started muttering things about "Adoptathon" and "Humane Society" and "overcrowded with Cats" and "homeless Cats" and "poor Kitties" and "needed more room for more Cats" (she also mentioned d-o-g-s, but I refused to go there.)
I was not at all ready for this and not at all sure I liked it. Mom kept saying "Good Kitty," "Nice Kitty" but I was too busy being indignant to notice.
Here's Mom's excuse:
The local Humane Society Shelter has had an overabundance of pets needing homes. With more coming in than they had room for, they sponsored an Adoptathon to try and find homes for as many pets as possible, especially for those who had been at the shelter for a long time. So they put the word out through the local media. That's how Mom found out about it.
The little Cat Mom brought home had been turned into the Human Shelter when she was a kitten, having been found in an area neighborhood. That was back in early June. By late August, she still hadn't been adopted, until Mom brought her home that is. Her estimated age is about 4 and 1/2 months.
Humph. I can tell you why she hadn't been adopted. She's a wild Cat! She runs and jumps and bites and claws and wrestles everyone and everything. Try putting a kittenishly cute fireball into the arms of a 4 year old who has just said "Mommy can I hold the Kitty?" and see what happens. Instant "back-into-the-cage-we-don't-want-THAT-Cat" action.
My problem is that she isn't the least bit daunted by my growling and hissing and swatting at her. She still wants to play with me. But I'm mad enough that I refuse to play. I refuse to like her. I refuse to cooperate.
Fortunately for me (and everyone else) she has absolutely no stamina. Since she spent the last 2 and 1/2 months in a little cage, she poops out real quick. So when she gets feisty, Mom plays with her until she's tuckered out and takes a nap. Mom tries to tell me it's my job to play with her (Mom also has the nerve to suggest that I might need the exercise) but I tell Mom no.
Not that anyone will be interested, but Mom is making Me put this picture of the intruder on my blog.
So my world is turned upsidedown at the moment and I don't think that I like it.