… continued from previous entry on 2/10/10…
Eventually they let me out of that small blue room. I had to go to a doctor’s office for a few days, but that was okay, the doctor was nice to me and gave me some shots, which hurt but she said I would be okay after they were over. And she was right. Finally I had a real house to live in, there was so much to explore and see, I was overwhelmed. And they fed me so much. I grew so fast. Eating is my favorite thing in the entire world. I loved hiding under the beds. I could see everyone that walked in and out of the room and yet they never knew I was in there. And oh yeah—the dog. He and I weren’t getting along very well. I know that he was at the house first and everything, but all he did was sit there and everyone adored him. I competed for their attention. So sometimes I would walk up to him and hit him. He would growl back at me, which didn’t scare me at all, I would just hit him again. And of course, I would hiss at him too. But he never really flinched. Oh well, it was still fun following him around the house, as much as he acted like he didn’t care.
One day, the scariest thing happened. I was sitting on the floor, ready to pounce on the next mouse that ran by—oh yeah, I was catching many mice in the kitchen most nights. The little girl’s mother loved me for it. I was better than all of the mouse traps they had set up around the house. But anyways, so I was sitting on the floor, ready to pounce, and the little girl’s mother walked by.
“Hello, Prissy,” she said.
“Prissy” was her new name for me. Either she thought I was a priss or she got tired of saying “Princess” every time she saw me. I’m thinking she thought I was a priss. But she loved me.
She walked passed me and opened up a door to a closet I had never seen before. She pulled out a tall, blue thing that she plugged into the wall. I stepped back, toward the wall, nervous. She leaned back the handle and as soon as she turned it on, two white eyes lit up at the bottom front and a giant roar came out of its mouth as she pushed it toward me. I had never been so scared in all of my life. I bolted through the kitchen, around to the dining room, up the stairs, and flashed straight into her room and backed myself into the corner under her bed. It was safe there. No blue monster with bright shining eyes could get me there.
One day, early in the morning, a bunch of people came over to the house and started being really loud. They were putting everything in boxes and playing really loud music. I was scared; I hid under the mother’s bed again.
“Princess, Princess, where are you?” I saw the feet of the little girl wandering around the bedroom. She lifted up the curtain hanging over the bed and saw me crouched in the corner.
“Oh, my sweet baby, come here baby girl!” She said, as she grabbed me. I whined. Why was she taking me away? I was perfectly content under that bed.
“Beautiful baby Prissy, swallow this,” the little girl’s mother said, as the little girl held me. The mother put some peanut butter on my tongue and I swallowed it. A few minutes later, I started to feel really dazed. They set me in a blue cage with a towel on the bottom and a few minutes later, we were in the car and I did not feel like whining or complaining about anything. I just sat there, quiet. The dog lay on the floor and was okay with it, like he had done this before.
After a long time in the car, we arrived at a new house. They let me run free in the house. It was fun, a new place for me to explore. I loved this house. The mother would always open the windows when it was nice outside and I would sit in the window sill and watch everything that was happening outside. This new place had lots of trees and animals. I loved the squirrels. They made me so happy, watching them jump from tree to tree and chase each other. I wish I could have been out there with them but after the doctor took my claws out, the little girl said there was no more going outside for me. So sitting in the screen was fun. Sometimes they would let me out on the deck, supervised by the mother of course. I knew not to run far and that the mother trusted me. I ate the grass sometimes, and the mother didn’t seem to be bothered by it. The grass was always really green and smooth.
Then, the day came when they gave me the peanut butter that made me not care about anything, put me in my cage, and away we went. The little girl was sitting in the front seat crying the entire ride. We rode like this for two days. I didn’t understand why she was so upset. The dog might as well have been given the peanut butter too because he sat on the floor of the car the whole way, not making a sound.
One night, we were staying in this strange house. I didn’t recognize any of the furniture anywhere. We had been here for about a week now. I was prowling around, bored, with nothing to do. I heard the dog throwing up and the mother started screaming and crying.
“What’s wrong with him? Call the doctor,” the mother said from in the bedroom. A few minutes later, the father came out of the door carrying the dog. He looked funny, both sides of his stomach looked like he had swallowed a basketball. The father looked upset as he passed me; I stood behind the kitchen table watching him carry the dog away. The mother stood at the doorway and cried. And that was the last time I ever saw the dog.
Soon after that, we left that strange guesthouse. Thank goodness, because I was starting to get bored in that small space. And it was weird being without the dog. His dish bowl and food still stood next to mine, but he was never there.
So we arrived at a new house. It was the biggest house I had ever seen. Again, there were new places to explore, things to see—roaches to catch! Oh my gosh, this place had a lot of roaches. And crickets. And scorpions, that sting really badly if I tried to catch them. I tried to keep all of the insects at bay, but there was more than I could handle. I loved sitting in a chair in the sun room of the house, it made me so happy to feel the sunlight on my fur. I used to always sit there and for some reason, the little girl could never find me there, as much as I heard her calling my name, which at this point had been changed to “Roach.” I certainly hoped they were calling me that because I caught all the roaches in the house, not because I was as ugly or revolting as a cockroach. They always told me how pretty was, so I am sure they called me that since I killed all of the roaches.
…to be continued.
-Written summer 2008 for my ‘creative writing for english majors’ class at UCF