My humans were gone most of this week, so I had the run of the house. The lady that comes to take care of me is a cat mom to Wrigley and Soldier (can you tell their family are Chicago fans?), so she’s good people. When she gives me my treats, she doesn’t just put them on my food mat or on the floor, she tosses them under the kitchen table legs so I have to hunt my prey. She’ll also hang out a while and talk to me while she reads magazines. My people came home Wednesday, and Teri said she has a headache from all the head bonks I gave her.

The first photo is me on the back of the couch where I usually sit when my humans watch TV. It’s a comfy spot where I can keep an eye on them. I don’t watch the shows because it’s my way of silently protesting the lack of felines in most movies and shows. Far too many dogs, in my opinion, and a clear case of discrimination.

These are some of my favorite toys. I play with catnip mice occasionally, but usually only when Sora is here. If you don’t know her, she’s Teri’s oldest son’s cat. That girl is a queen diva who takes over my tower the second her paws hit the floor. It’s my favorite place for afternoon sunning, and she knows it. She also likes to hiss at me for no apparent reason, so I purposely take all the catnip mice when she’s here because I know it’s her favorite toy. If I have them, she can’t. The pink thing is one of my springs, and if you haven’t played with them, you’re not living right. When Teri launches them into the air, I chase after them. I especially enjoy knocking them underneath the furniture so she has to dig them out.

In the words of cartoonist Jim Davis, writer and creator of Garfield (a true inspiration to all felines), “Cats rule the world.” Bond out.

If you read my post last week, you’re familiar with the trauma I experienced after being locked in the laundry room closet for four hours. Teri said it was an accident, but I still have my doubts. Friends, the indignities continued this week! Against my will, I was forced into my carrier and taken to – dare I say it – the vet. Teri says I haven’t been eating as much lately. Sometimes my appetite decreases when the weather is warmer. But did anyone ask my opinion? No. Once we arrived at the seventh level of hell and I was taken into an exam room, my temperature was taken. I can’t even begin to describe my displeasure over that. Then someone mentioned drawing a blood sample, and I wasn’t having it. It took three people and two tries to get it. And that was after they shaved my neck! Now my fur is all messed up, and it will take weeks to grow back in.

I overheard Teri on the phone the next day, and my blood test was normal across the board, so I suffered needlessly. That terrible vet person gave Teri a bottle of pills, and now I have to take half of one every day. She tried putting it in a disgusting chicken flavored pill pocket. I’m not an idiot. I saw and smelled through that one right away. Then she smashed it along with a treat and sprinkled it over my food thinking I’d be tricked. As a last resort, she has a pill shooter that I’m not fond of. My list of personal affronts is growing. The first photo is me recovering on my perch after my appointment that day. Lexie, the cat across the street, came over later that night, and shared in my sorrow as we serenaded the neighborhood with the song of our people until Teri made me come in before someone called the police.

The second photo is Mike’s suitcase. He was gone on a business trip, and I don’t l like it when my people leave. Those pink and blue fuzzy things are what I carry through the house when I’m sad or alone. Which is probably what I should have done after the vet visit.

Words of wisdom for this week – Cats don’t follow commands; they tolerate requests. Bond out.

The first part of my week was not good. Raise your paw if you’ve been locked in a laundry room closet for four hours. None of you? That’s what I thought. It’s not pleasant, and I know this because it happened to me Sunday morning. When Teri got something out of the closet, I slipped inside. She never leaves that door open, so I haven’t had the chance to properly inspect it. AND THEN SHE SHUT THE DOOR. I heard her calling my name later and shaking the treat container to lure me out, but I didn’t meow. I was too mad, and she should have known I was in there. She said something about not being able to find my new napping spot, then she and Mike went to church. They just left me there. Trapped. Not long after they got home, Teri finally figured out where I was. Took her long enough. The second she opened that door, I leaped out. Later she had the nerve to say my head smelled good and something about dryer sheets. I experienced severe trauma – no food or water, not even a comfortable blanket to curl up on – and she made jokes. Because of her extreme guilt – which she deserved – I got extra treats. I reluctantly forgave her, but don’t assume I’ll forget about this. I keep track of these grievous offenses.

The rest of my week was better. Below I’m supervising Teri while she works from home. There’s no one else to keep tabs on her, so that’s just another responsibility that falls on me. Am I paid for this? No. Once I know she’s on track, I nap in some of my favorite spots around her desk – the basket, my bed, or on top of the shelf.

Teri likes to read. A lot. Sometimes I put my paws on her chest and poke my head in front of her book so she’ll pet me. Other times I curl up beside her and snooze. That’s what I’m doing in the next photo. You don’t need to say it. I know I’m adorable.

Words of wisdom for this week – Dogs come when they’re called; cats take a message and get back to you later. Bond out.