It’s rumored that we have seven lives. How do they know? And does that apply to all cats, or just the small ones that aren’t even actually related? I have no idea which number I’m on…except, obviously, not #1. Whatever. As in the last life, I had begun to assume the status quo would last forever. There was a time I thought I would always stalk my next meal from a hill above or from behind a tree -until a loud blast cut short my fun and games. Then I had reconciled myself to the fact that I would be scooped off the side of the road and torn into little pieces, until the one called Catrina rescued me and eventually brought me here. And after all the years of lying in this dark strange place, I figured I’d never see the light of day again . But, as before… a change. A female from upstairs came close and talked excitedly to Catrina and the two of them started trying to take off my top hat and glasses and lift me a bit. Stupefying. After more jibber jabber, the one they call Kyle hoisted me up and took me out into the glaring daylight. Up the stairs to Empress Room we went…a surprise in itself, as I had never visited… but more incredible, the grand entrance was to facilitate an introduction with a hefty, antiquated cat named Tucker. Apparently, the notion was we might connect…both of us popular with humankind and with our portraits painted on walls… Especially happy for the short field trip, I played the good sport (as I do while others are around) and posed for their photographs, although baffled as to how anyone could put us on the same level. Tucker had obviously let himself go for many moons. I, on the other hand…
His good fortune that I no longer have any appetite.
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