Lynettea had to fill in my details for the RSPCA pet bequest program in case anything happens to her. There were only 500 words to describe my purrsonality, which I didn't feel could do me justice. She said I was nervous of going away from home and loved playing with her.
Only partly true. I might not be nervous if I really got going. It is the starting out that is so difficult, the wondering about what might happen.
I don't really want to be bequested, but Lynettea says she has to safeguard my future.
I am already in the program, but they got a new computer and failed to transfer my details.
Not a good look!!!
Is she serious? I was waiting for my jelly food to be put down. My gravy food was still in the bowl, only partly eaten. But I really wanted fresh jelly food.
So I gave her the teniest tiniest slash with one of my clawsies. It hardly touched her.
She started, and then turned around and said, 'If you keep on scratching me, Sasha, I will have to look for a new home for you.'
Well I ask you! I leaped from the bed and sat in the corridor on a flat scratching board. When she came out, I stared at her, my beautiful eyesies wide open.
'I am really serious about that, Sasha,' she said, glaring at me. 'Really serious.'
Then she put my jelly food in the bowl.
Instead of leaping at it, tongue scooping at the foil packet, as it usually does, I sat still on the kitchen counter, where I had jumped after leaving the scratcher in the corridor, and stared at her.
'What's the matter, Sasha? she asked. 'Don't you want your jelly food?'
I didn't move. Just sat there on the counter, which is another forbidden place.
'Oh, I am sure everything will be alright,' she said. 'Don't worry.'
Then she picked me up and put me near my plate, nose pointed to the bowl.
The enticing scent of the jelly forced me to eat. Actually I couldn't stop myself once I was sniffing it.
But should I worry? My clawsies have a will of their own.
On the other hand the servants might be more compliant at a new place.
I accidentally gave Lynettea a scratch on her right index finger on Monday evening. What a fuss! If she hadn't tried to pat my beautiful long right arm while I was lying down gently grooming my pretty furs, this wouldn't have happened.
On Tuesday evening the pharmacist told her she should see the doctor, as animal wounds could be serious. She made a doctor's appointment and then came home to feed me before going back to wait. Luckily we live nearby or I might have really suffered. Food is a very important matter.
Now she has had a tetanus injection and is taking antibiotics and it is supposed to be my fault? I don't think it is my fault.
After the heat of the last days, we have a cool change. It is a public holiday, so with little traffic in the street we can have the front door open for a while.
I feel more energized. The last few days I have spent lyimg around thinking of icebergs and hoping one would drift northwards from the pole. The nearest we got to it was a few icecubes from the fridge.
I was on my futon in the loungeroom, then I moved. Went outside under my bus seat, where it was like a dark cave, then was persuaded to come in for a session with the massage brush. I enjoyed that. Now I am resting on the floor under the ceiling fan. Lynettea put a selection of beds for me to choose from.
I haven't posted for a while.
Lynettea said I can't expect to have visitors if I don't make any posts.
But it is difficult to make posts when your human doesn't help at all, even by taking photos.
Perhaps she thought helping with my birthday celebration was enough for her to do all year.
I am sleeping in. Even though it is 2.40 pm I am still on my eiderdown on the loungeroom floor with my beautiful green eyes tight shut. If I stay quite still she might not disturb me by trying to kiss me or something.
We had a noisy time over the weekend with aerial displays right over the house. I felt stressed and even ran under the bed a couple of times. These planes were noisy, but not the worst. Some sort of jet made a hideous noise right above the roof.
The car race is finished now. But I ask you, 'what is next?' I dread to think!