יום שישי כ"א שבט תשע"ג
I am only 3 ½ months
old. I was born on a patch of dirt. When
I was picked up, I was very little and still could not see well to run away.
However, I was fed and cleaned and given some medications and by the time I was
about 2 months old, some tall moving beings put me in a rattling box and
brought me to where I am now.
I live in an Embassy.
I know it is an embassy because
there are spots of gold on the ceiling and a shiny marble floor for me to roll
my ball on. I have many hands that pat me
and there is always food in my dish even when I am not hungry. My litter box is cleaned twice a day. When I call
out, a voice from above always answers and long legs come to clean the floor where litter have spilled out. Sometimes, when I really miss my mother and I suck
on skin, hands move me to a nice comfortable chair with a velvet cloth so I can
suck on that.
My days are always the
same. I am responsible for the happiness and schedule of my attendants.
Schedules make Long Legs happy. I am not sure where I learned that, but I must
have been born smart.
Early every morning, I
stretch my limbs in every direction making sure that my body is in good working
order. Then I slowly climb up from the foot of the bed, walking on the sleeping
bodies. If they don’t move, I continue to their heads and start nuzzle them
with my cold nose. That wakes them up.
I learned to go to the right
side first. There the ‘mom’ turns over and smile and as I persist she gets up
and shuffle to the big cold box where she takes out my favor chunks of food and
dumps it in my yellow bowl. If I get to the ‘dad’ first, he picks me up and
throw me across the room and goes back to sleep. Not a good start of a day. He has to get up when I tell him, I’m the
keeper of the schedule!
Did I say that schedule
keeps Long Legs happy?
After breakfast, I paw
myself clean making sure that I leave no crumbs from the food nor dirt from the
litter box on anything around me. Then I pick up a little ball and jump back on
the bed for a play time. It is usually the male that likes to play ball. I
taught him to throw the ball each time I bring it over so he can get his arms
exercised. If the yellow ball get stuck under a chair I bring the pink ball
instead. If both balls get to a place I cannot reach, I mew and one of them
takes out the balls from under the wardrobes, the kitchen new cupboards, or the
sofa chairs. Sometimes, I take the blue or red big balls and paw them across
the marble floor. Legs hit these balls back at me and we have a good game.
It is good to live at the
embassy, those marble floors have just the right amount of slippery touch to
them so I can slide after the balls as if I am in an ice rink playing
hockey.
Some mornings I sent them
out the door and I have long uninterrupted naps. The outdoors are interesting,
but so far all I am able to do is to stand with my front paws on the balcony
edge and look at the water drops or watch the noisy movements down below. Long legs don’t allow me to walk up on the
ledge or come close to the bars. They promised me that they’ll put a barrier
that I can see through it but not able to jump down. The embassy is located
very high up on the fourth floor and they worry that I will fall.
Someone should tell them
that a cat can balance on roof tops so they stop worrying about me.
It is raining and cold this
week. Long legs turned on some heat in the little room where my chair is. They
also decided to wash some bed sheets since the ‘dad’ person spend most of the
week in it coughing and sneezing. But as soon as the wash machine stopped the
water drops started again from above and they had to hang the wet things
inside. These are in the room where they
turn on the heat. So I am taking advantage of the situation and am resting now
in my big white chair, feeling toasty warm there.
After I wake up from my nap
I check on the condition of the food bowl. Making sure it is full, seeing that
the litter box is cleaned, checking that the balls are available for playing, I
mew for the companions and see that their laps are ready for a cuddle. Twice so far they put me in a big cage and no
matter how loud I protested, I was taken outside and placed on a bicycle and driven
away with my heart in my mouth to where I was given a shot. Once, the tall one with the needle had the
audacity to come to the embassy to give me a shot. Hey! This is my castle get
off….
But all other days, I’m
keeping the schedule and I am happy. It is good to live in an embassy.
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