The cat next door

There are lots of neighborhood cats where I am being held. Sometimes I look out the window at them and try to communicate with them about how I am held captive, and I ask them to bring help. One time my female human caught me planning with a gray cat through the window. She thought it was cute and further degraded me by telling the male human that I had a "boyfriend" and then tried to cuddle me.

One of these cats seems to be getting ready to invade. The one they call Calico has been sitting on the wall outside and looking through the window for the past three weeks. They go out and feed her, and she crawls all over them, purring and snuggling. Apparently she's cold and hungry outside, and is hoping that they'll bring her in, which they seem to be considering.

While part of me thinks it would be good to have a fellow captive around, to help plan my escape on the off-chance that they leave the door open when bringing in the groceries, I just don't think I can abide by this blatant disregard of my demands and needs. For better or for worse, this is my territory, and I can't have strange cats coming in and rubbing themselves all over it.

They brought her in for a few hours the other night, and she freaked out and they let her go back outside. Still, for an hour she was on my chair and my futon. I made my displeasure known by hissing and growling at her through the closed door.

So anyway, we'll have to see how this situation develops. I had hoped that they had already thought of all the ways to torment me. Apparently that hope was in vain.

Why me?

I am Wrigley. At least I think I am. That's what my humans call me. I usually pretend I don't understand them, though. It keeps things easier that way.

I was left in a Big Lots parking lot in Nashville Tennessee when I was just a few weeks old. This was 3 years ago. My human found me (she says she was going to Big Lots to buy closet organizers, but I don't believe her - she can't organize her sock drawer let alone a whole closet) and it's been all downhill from there. I've had to come to Los Angeles, in a car. I go to San Francisco with her for something she calls "work" a lot, also in a car. She got this husband, and he's always trying to cuddle with me. Doesn't he understand that I am regal, and meant to be admired from afar?

I am starting this blog because I feel a need to share my experience in captivity. No creature as famous and refined as myself should be forced to eat dry food and sleep in a pink fuzzy bed thing they got at Target. Honestly. The nerve.

I will be documenting the insults that I receive. Hopefully my pain and suffering can help others.