Who does she think she is?

I still have rumbly tummy and may have to go to the vet. I mean, I should go to the vet anyway -- especially if I will be staying in this house, which it seems like I will. I'm not so sure if I want to stay or not...

Yesterday morning, the Lady decided that the Dog and I had learned to avoid each other well enough, and left us alone together in the house with free reign. Well, the Lady's roommate informed her that the Dog had barked at me and tried to play loudly (BY BARKING! Did I mention the barking? I hate barking.) for the first 20 minutes. I got upset and hissed at him and he still didn't get the message. Stupid dog. So, we had to be separated again, which is just fine by me. He needs to learn that no means no.

Well, no means no unless it is the Lady saying no to me. Last night, when she pushed me out of the bedroom to go to sleep, I wanted to sleep with her! Of course! But, she is still not sure the dog and I can share the bed, and she is trying to build up her allergy tolerance slowly. WHATEVER. Anyway, I let my disagreement be known by yelping at the door .

Then, THEN!, and this is really the worst, she had the nerve to squirt me in the face with water. I mean, okay. Maybe I was being a little loud, and everyone was trying to sleep, but so was I! Hello? Bedtime equals bed, lady. I know you're in there hoarding the bed. I am the princess and I can't be expected to sleep in a cat bed forever. I am now plotting takeover of the bed.

Why don't you just kill me?

I am siiiiiick. Sick sick sick. A couple of days ago, I started getting a little rumbly in the tummy, if you know what I mean. The Lady says it's just stress from moving and maybe she changed my food too fast (YOU THINK?) but whatever the reason, there was a scary incident in the litter box this morning and, to make a long story short, I made a big, big mess.

Let's just say, the roommate used the word "explosive" to describe what happened back there.

Yesterday, I deposited two liquidy gifts in the laundry room sink. I didn't feel right about doing it in the bathroom litter box, and I didn't think she'd mind so much if I found a nice place that she hardly ever used.

I hope I get feeling better soon. If it goes on for too much longer, I'll have to go to the vet and I HATE the vet.

The Lady emailed my breeder to ask all kinds of personal questions. Who does she think she is? Anyway, I am spayed, and have had all my shots, and am healthy (which, of course, I could have told her but WHATEVER) and now she knows my birthday. November 28, 2005. I'm a year and a half old.

And also I am sick. Go away.

Am I really staying here?

The Lady got smart and let me have free run of the house last night. I mean, when she ran home from work to check on me Monday morning, I had already gotten out of the bathroom somehow and was exploring my surroundings. Fortunately, the dog was cooped up in the bedroom with her boyfriend. Stupid dog.

After a night of my exploring, the Lady's roommate convinced her to clip the jinglebell from my collar. THANK GOODNESS. I still hate the collar and the tag and have chewed it all up, but at least I no longer jingle everywhere I go. How could I stalk and catch my enemies with that thing clanging all the time? I mean, granted. I don't know if I could stop meowing long enough to sneak up on anything... but at least give me a fighting chance.

Anyway, last night, the Lady held the dog on her lap (who is not quite as big as I had thought, but just as MANGY AND DOGLIKE, I ASSURE YOU) and let me explore around him. I am very brave, of course, so I would run right up and sniff at his face. Fortunately, he didn't move. I am brave, but not THAT brave. So, as long as he stayed still and didn't make movements toward me, I was fine with that. He smells, and he's VERY HAIRY (I really do hate hair), and you can tell he's just as dopey as any old dog, but he seems nice enough. No moving. Like a statue. Didn't chase. Just sat there and took treats. Perfect. I might be able to train this dog yet.

I wanted to sleep on the bed with the Lady, and I spent plenty of time yelping and making this desire known, but it seems that the dog has already laid claim to the bedroom. Because of her so-called "allergies," I'm still not allowed in that room. The Lady wipes me down every day with a wipe that smells odd -- I have to spend a lot of time licking it off, which she says defeats the purpose but WHATEVER. Leave me alone already. They're your allergies, not mine.

So, the setup at this point is that I am sleeping in the living room, and the dog in the bedroom with the Lady. Stupid dog. At least he is mostly leaving me alone. Stupid dog.

WHY???

The dog is still here. That is all I have to say about that.

EXCUSE ME?

THERE IS A DOG HERE. That's right. There is a dog in this house. Talk about a trial! I am not so sure about this at all. The Lady left me in the bathroom with everything I could need or want -- sure. Fine. But I kept hearing a big, mangy dog come over to sniff under the door. I AM NOT HAPPY ABOUT THIS.

Not that the bathroom is so bad. Stupid Lady, she thought I'd be all timid and maybe find a place to hide and sit quietly in the room until I, whatever, "Got Accustomed" or "Settled Down" or "Felt More at Home." No way, man. I have things to explore. I have no fear. This morning, she came in and turned on the blow dryer and I didn't even flinch.

I will say they got a little too excited when I used the litter box. I mean, what do they think I am? A kitten?

Don't worry -- I make my frustration known. When I'm cooped up in the bathroom alone, I yelp and yelp for company. Maybe at some point they'll get the hint and let me out of here.

Except...

You didn't tell me there'd be a dog.

I still haven't gotten a good look at him, and maybe I'm getting a bit used to his smell but I DON'T THINK SO. THERE IS A DOG HERE.

I don't know about this...

The lady came back. She came just in time, too! A couple were meeting me when she arrived and I didn't like them one bit. They looked like a sorority girl and a frat boy. They were all primped and made up and perfect, with their matching manicures and sunglasses on their head. They had no idea how to hold me and it had me scared. My breeder (I mean, he's okay -- kind of cool -- has a tattoo of a Sphynx, which I can get behind) was trying to help them hold me but eventually they gave up and -- BIG SHOCK -- moved on to the Sphynxes. They can have their Hollywood. No thank you.

Anyway, the lady played with me one more time for a few minutes and then went away. I guess she was trying to make a decision and see if her allergies acted up. Then, she came back. She looked worried. She told my breeder that she wanted to take me home, but could we do a trial? I'm okay with a trial home. BELIEVE ME I'm okay with a trial home, since I want to make sure everything is up to snuff and my very high standards.

So, they put me in a carrier and off we went. The carrier smelled a little like dog, but I'm sure that's just my imagination. We went to the pet store and stocked up on toys, litter, and food. Home sweet trial home, here I come.

I don't know who you think you are...

I am at another one of those stupid cat shows this weekend. We drove all the way to Costa Mesa to loll about and bat at toys -- which I am more than happy to do from my perch in Moreno Valley, so why all the fuss?

People at the show are a little nuts with their loud-print blouses and their sparkly kitty toys and their fluffy hair getting all over everything. NOT INTERESTED. Fortunately, I never have to be pulled out and get judged. No one gives awards for a Cornish without curly hair. Who wants awards? Stupid awards. They aren't even very good as toys, so I get to just rest with my hairless brother and occasionally be pulled out to meet humans. Very occasionally. Stupid humans.

Sure, everyone wants to poke and coo at our cages, but when they realize that I'm a suede Cornish and not a Sphynx, they quickly lose interest. They might comment on how soft my skin is compared to them, or how strange I look. They lose patience when I squirm and yelp, and then they go away. It's awesome. Mostly, the humans are interested in the bald cousins. They can have their Hollywood. Whatever.

But, my breeders are trying to get rid of me. I had a litter 4 months ago and most of the kids are here, at the show, being judged. A couple even won awards. Stupid awards. They got the curly hair, even though I didn't... Frankly, I'm glad of it. I don't mind them so much, but I never wanted babies. I wouldn't nurse the ones I had -- are you kidding me? I'm too beautiful for that. I have no time for such things. So, now I've been spayed. I'm an adult now, and I guess I need a place to live.

A lady and her boyfriend came to see me today. They didn't mind my writhing and my yelping, and she's very tall so she's a good candidate for shoulder-sitting. They preferred the way I felt under their fingertips to the way the Sphynxes look.The lady is allergic to cats but played with me for quite a while with no reaction. She wants to come back tomorrow, maybe. People always say that, but then do they come back? Mostly not. Stupid humans.