Yes, I’m still here. Unlike Schrödinger’s cat, there is no paradox. I exist whether I’m boxed or not. And, much like Mark Twain, “Reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.”
But this past year hasn’t been easy for me. I really did almost die a few times. I was locked downstairs for
days weeks! Although, if you hear Mom tell the story, it was only an hour or two before she heard me scratching on the cellar door and came to save me. (That woman’s perspective is warped. I tell you, it was months!)
And, although I remind her every chance I get, she’s conveniently forgotten about the garage incident. How could she not know I was missing? After midnight, I’m always in bed, between her and dad, waiting for her to stop playing around with the computer and put on the cat videos. How could she not hear me yowling pitifully in the dark, greasy garage the entire, long, endless night while ZuZu slept at the end of the bed, safe and sound? (That woman is not in touch with reality. I’ll bet if her precious, darling little baby kitty didn’t show up on the bed one night, she’d be calling the cops.)
And I have to share with you something else about Baby ZuZu that is being kept hush, hush around this house. SHE’S LOST IT!
That’s right. It’s a huge family secret. Everybody’s pretending things are normal, but I know differently. It all came to light one August afternoon when I was sitting with Mom and Dad on the patio. Mom lets me go outside now, if I stay close to them. (Since they’re always cooking something on the grill and feeding their faces, I ask you – Where else would I be?) So, on this one lovely, peaceful afternoon, the three of us were having a nice family lunch outside and Dad opened the door to go inside for another juicy hamburger to put on the grill for me and the Little ZuZu Freak flew out the door and attacked me! She went complete FERAL! Jumped on my back. hissing and screaming like she’s never seen me before. Dad grabbed me and saved me while mom went off looking for the Baby Psycho Killer who was now in hiding. It took the rest of the day to find her and get her back into the house. That animal needs to be heavily sedated.
And talking about drugs, it was determined by our
vet quack that I had a thyroid problem. She extracted quarts gallons of blood and then decided I needed to be put on meds which were later sprinkled into my food without my permission. (There is absolutely no respect for my sovereign rights around this asylum!) So then, come to find out, the dosage was too high and I went into a coma for days. (Mom says it was only a few hours and she actually took time off from writing to hold me in her arms while I moaned and refused to eat.) I was there! I refused to eat! I almost starved to death! It was weeks months! The longest coma I’ve ever experienced.
And I won’t bother you with all the psychological trauma I’ve been put through during the past year. Two new books have been released and neither one is about me, Roxie Dammit, aka The Other Cat. Yes, the woman is now writing local murder mysteries. What person creates adorable, little children’s books and then, with the same hand, writes a MURDER mystery? And she’s yet to confer with me about anything she’s working on day in and day out. I’m surprised she takes time to feed me. (Well, she actually feeds Baby ZuZu and I just get the paltry left-overs.) Oh, I’d love to give her a few tips about how to do away with a nemesis.
Now, I realize there are a lot of unappreciative people who’ve had books written about them, but I don’t see what they have to complain about. Ingrates! At least they’re in a book. I don’t care what Mom writes about me as long as there’s a picture of me, Roxie Dammit, on the cover!
Apparently, the second book in the mystery series has been completed and She Who Can’t Give Me The Time of Day is presently taking a brief hiatus. (I can’t help but wonder how many books it will take to quell her insatiable lust for fame?) So, I’m grabbing this chance to write a blog post to reassure you I’m still alive and kicking, but just barely after the horrendous year I’ve had.
I’m sorry I’m late in wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, but I’ve been thinking about all of you even if I’m not given the opportunity to tell you you’re appreciated and I hope 2018 is better for all of us.
PS One good thing about all of the writing that’s been taking up so much time – Mom didn’t have a minute to bring out the faceless angels for Christmas this year. See, there’s a silver lining behind every cloud and I’m just the cockeyed optimist who’ll find it!