I’ve been a bad pussy

First up, boys and girls, let me apologize for my slackness of late. I want especially to say sorry to d34dpuppy and Zorro, both of whom have been asking after me. DP is very patient.

I offer no excuses, except that the people are sat at the computers all day, and I get tired of waiting for them so I have to lie beside the radiator. And then the radiator gets hot and I find all my energy sapping away, and the next thing I know, I'm fast asleep. When I wake up then, I'm too hot and I have to go outside to cool off.

Then when I'm outside, I get distracted by leaves and dirt getting blown around in the wind, and I forget that I'm supposed to blogging. After all that running around, I am hungry, so I have to eat, and after eating I need to have a lie down.

Friends, it's a vicious circle! I'm not making excuses, it's just... No, I am making excuses. What of it?!

So, anyway, I never did get around to telling you all about my "spa vacation". Spa vacation, my chocolate starfish! Here goes.

Christmas was all well and good. It was one of the few Christmases that the people spend at home with me instead of going off gallavanting. I was happy. They would turn on the Christmas lights, and a warm glow filled the living room. It was a good Christmas.

Then came early January, and I started to hear talk of holidays approaching and foreign lands. I flattened my ears down to hide myself from these ugly words, but I couldn't save myself from my fate.

Once they put me in the car, along with some of my goodies, I knew this wasn't a vet trip. They don't take all that paraphenalia to the vets with me. "Oh well," I figured. "It's not so bad up there in the countryside: I get to look at sheep and sometimes pheasants and stuff. It could be worse."

Oh, yes, it could be worse; and it was worse. They didn't take me to my usual cattery, but to a new one instead. A new one with a man who smelled like he was on fire. He always had this little white stick with him with smoke coming from it, and he'd put it in his mouth from time to time. It smelled.

They put me in a cage. A cage, I tell you! With wire fencing. Not like my lovely perspex-walled room at the other place... And the cage smelled of other cats and other cats' piss. I had no option but to spray my scent everywhere, to make sure no intruders would think this patch was available to them.

I had to be on my guard day and night. Sleep with one eye open, that kind of thing. It was a loooong week.

When the people came to collect me, I heard their voices first. And then they heard mine. They couldn't believe how deep and gruff and threatening my voice was. I'd had to change it to keep bad people away. That smelly man kept touching me and trying to pick me up, you see. Well, I soon stopped that with a lash of the claws and a chomp of the teeth!

I heard him grass me up to the people. He said: "You should have told me he bites." Uh-oh, I'm in trouble...

But the people couldn't have been nicer. They apologized to me the whole way back home, saying that he shouldn't have tried to touch me, and that they had told him I wasn't an affectionate cat who tolerates being touched. And they said sorry that they'd left me there.

I felt vindicated.

Even so, I made sure each of them got a good scratch and bite within the next 24 hours, just to reiterate my displeasure.

But I was so glad to be back home, where I can sleep properly, with both eyes closed, for as long as I like, and food is always just a yowl away.

The woman said that they'd broken me, but now...

"I was cured, all right."