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Babe of the Week:

Anonymous babe

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M?ia

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Started my day with the usual window-bashing. I still can't get the @#$#% thing open. Tried to open the back door also, but I think one needs to be taller for that.

I realized today that if the window is not open when she-who-will-not-let-me-out leaves, it's not going to open at all. So today when I saw her heading out with her bag, I began a furious attempt to persuade her. She is cruel, cruel, and only turned around to get that damned eyedropper bottle out of the fridge. Thankfully, I think it's almost empty.

After that I decided to do some web surfing. I did find some more prospects for "babe of the week" (see left), but I tried a search on "pussy cat" and subsequently became so frightened I logged off for the rest of the morning.

Then I took a nap, bashed at the window some more, watched out the front window trying to channel Dad home, then napped, beat up on my brother Scout, then ate some food, then napped.

Then she-who-will-not-let-me-out came home and I found a new fun game to play. I make noises like I want attention, and when she comes over to pet me I run just out of reach and then turn around and wait. She starts towards me again, and I run into the other room. I thought it was very funny and did not tire of it nearly as quickly as she did.

She says Dad will be home soon...if he is not, I think I shall pee in their bathtub.

Meanwhile, I'm going to try to make as many pathetic-sounding noises as possible.

This week has been only slightly less hellish than last; the only improvement is that my wounds are healing.

However, Dad has gone off again and left me to suffer. The window does not open. I have tried many times to do-the-window-thing like the large ones, but I cannot open it. The blinds only fly wildly back and forth. I'm starting to give up...today I found myself aimlessly bashing the blinds without even remembering what I was I trying to do...I just felt like bashing something.

Twice daily, foul-tasting medicine is squirted into my mouth, despite my best attempts to avoid it.

If I turn to *her* for affection, I sometimes need to remove Scout first. He retaliates by attacking me in the early morning hours while I'm trying to sleep.

Dad is gone, and there is no sign of shrimp-and-scallops. There is not even KFC to comfort me.

I have kept watch in the window; the 'stang is here, but no Dad appears. *She* tries to commiserate, but I'm sick of hearing her whine. I do not trust her; last week she made me stay in jail overnight with other prisoner cats. I still have bald spots, but fortunately the nightmares that set me to whimpering have subsided a bit.

Worst of all...and I hesitate to get too graphic here...I am being forced to pee in a box.

When Dad does get home, I am determined to make him listen to my complaints.