Gothic Tails

The Move

All I know is one trauma after another. Sigh. I was stuffed in a box. I hate boxes. I was let loose in a place with blinding white carpet. Why not black carpet? Why not a dark brown at least? Why can't it always be night? I tried to morph into a mouse and enter a small hole. Didn't work. I have now scoped out my territory. Under the dresser with the nice curvy overhang. And under a nice flap of thick material at the end of the couch. Sometimes...sometimes I let the minions who care for me pet me. I drool. I shake the drool onto them. I nibble their arm, hoping to draw blood. I am surprised to find I have a loud purr. I am surprised to find out that I like people-pets after all. Why oh why do we have to put up with these other cats? Why can't I just live in my very own tower? More later. I need to sacrifice something to Kaliacat.