I’m on the Mac upstairs. It’s the first chance I had to sneak away and blog. I hope this works. The Mac is old and doesn’t work as well with our blog, but I’m afraid to go downstairs and use the other computer. Carla and I are NOT happy cats. They can fill our bowls with red, skip treat time and not clean the cat boxes and it wouldn’t be as bad as it is right now. We’re under siege!
I believe Carla because she’s in the right school now, so she’s learning stuff. I know I got smarter when I went to obedience school, but even though I graduated at the top of my class, I’m having trouble applying my great brain in this real life situation.
Carla figured out that Morgan is a frankencat. I have no reason to believe that Carla is wrong, but something went terribly wrong in the frankencat assembly. I don’t think the frankencat was supposed to be made out of both of our fur. They must have been saving Boggle’s fur and wanted to make another Baggle. It’s a sweet idea. We all miss Baggle, and Chester and Aunt Azzie too. Well, Carla doesn’t miss Aunt Azzie or Chester because she never knew them, but I told her they were great cats and she should miss them, so she does. But it’s like some of the human movies I’ve seen - a good idea just doesn’t work sometimes. I think building a cat out of fur is like that. They just didn’t have enough fur. They used some patches of our fur to make the frankencat as big as Baggle but it still wasn’t even enough to make boy parts. They made a pretty cat, but it’s not Baggle. It’s not even nice!
So like in that story about building a human from parts, the frankencat started out looking like a cat, even acting like a cat, but it went wrong. She talked normal cat trash at first. We all do that – it’s part of getting to know each other. That’s a cat thing. But as Carla and I got used to her and growled maybe a little less, she got nastier. So we growled more. She attacked us! I mean really charged us and there was screeching, oh yes, screeching. We both did when she tackled us and we barely escaped under the bed.
Now we are upstairs cats. She won’t let us downstairs for food or even to use the litter box. She attacked me at the litter box a few days ago! She has a room upstairs that she doesn’t use now because she took over the rest of the house, so we have to share her litter box and hope there is food in her bowl. We are prisoners in our own house living under the bed! The frankencat has become a monster!
I gotta get back under the bed in case she comes upstairs and is between me and the bed ready to attack.
