After that weird stinky goodness episode things went right back normal for a day, then suddenly Bernie grabbed me, and Blondie was poking her fingers in my mouth.
Naturally I bit her.
It really is quite simple: Don't put anything of yours into my mouth that you don't want to have my teeth sink into.
There was blood everywhere.
After that, they opened a can of my favorite stinky goodness and the next thing I knew...
I'm a yellow cat Republican (not to be confused with a yellow dog Democrat) and I plan to investigate who is in charge of this organization once things get back to normal.
Anyway, the next thing that happened was we were taken outside and put into a car with some guy driving that I had never seen before. He spoke funny, and a song called "La Bamba" was playing. I thought maybe we were going to be smuggled into Mexico as part of a drug ring or something.
Hart and I were both feeling pretty weird so we figured we must have been drugged.
After a bit the car stopped, and Bernie picked up my carrier (with me in it) and Blondie took Hart. Hart was still sounding off; I figured I should just be quiet and try to think of what to do.
At one point Bernie reached inside the carrier and scooped me up, then walked really fast through a gate, then pushed me back inside the carrier, and zipped it up again.
All I saw was a huge, (and I mean HUGE) room with lots of people with rolling cases and stuff.
Bernie said we were in an airport, and that we were next going to something called a "President's Club."
I was glad to hear that; I wanted OUT, and at this point I was ready to take my complaint up to the Supreme Court if necessary.
It turned out the President's Club was just another big room with people sitting around typing on the their laptops and drinking stuff and eating cheese and crackers. Hart and I decided we would just start being really quiet; mostly because we were feeling so scared and sleepy too.
Just when I had finally nodded off Bernie reach down and picked up the case again and started to walk down some stairs.
Whoa...ugh...please just let me go home....let me sleep....
The next thing I knew, Blondie had me in the case on her lap. She kept stroking my fur through the little window thing, and was telling a man sitting next to her all about me. I thought maybe things would settle down, but then suddenly she stood up and lifted me again, and went walking down a narrow path between a lot of people who were sitting in rows.
Everyone tried to look at me; I had never seen so many faces all in one place in all my life.
Once Blondie sat down again I could see Bernie across the way holding Hart. Bernie and Blondie said I was lucky; that I got "upgraded" and was flying first class.
Then I was shoved under the seat.
First class. Heh.
At least it was dark and quiet under there, and after a whole lot of funny noises and vibrations, it just was dark and quiet and I slept.
Then there was more noises, and more funny feelings (my ears felt really weird until I yawned) and then Blondie hefted me up again and I was being paraded through another HUGE building.
Smarte Carte, whatever the heck that was. Hart and I were put on the ground were we just saw lots of feet and luggage being rolled by. Every so often a kid would stop and look, and I could hear people asking about us.
NO one lifted a finger to get us out.
NO one reported what was happening to us.
Fellow cats...in this election year we must pay close attention to what is being said about how we cats are being treated. Clearly we need change in America for cat freedom.
Clearly we need to outlaw this drugging and catnapping.
(Oh wait, we still want to take cat naps, we just don't want to be catnapped. I mean... we don't want people to put us places where we don't want to be, and take us places where we don't want to go. You know what I mean don't you? Maybe we should hire a lobbyist to represent ourselves.)
We had met Jeff before; he had hung out with us on the sofa at home lots of time.
What was HE doing here?
Another car ride, this time without music, and Bernie drove while Blondie kept looking over the seat at us and telling us that everything was going to be OK.
I want to go on the record about that.
There was a nice soft puffy bed to walk around on.
There was a litter box too....
snoopervised the room, then Bernie and Blondie climbed in the bed. I decided I would sleep where I could keep a good eye on them.
The tile floor and the green furniture worked with my orangeness.
A HUGE fluffy gray cat.
My ears went flat and I hunched down.
I had a picture of him on my blogside bar.
Meowsie is NOT small.
I am not sure how we are related actually. He sure doesn't look like anyone in my family. Maybe a bit like Hart's family....but all that fur...totally weird.
Blondie said Meowsie was adopted; and that he was a Persian cat.
Persian....you mean like from Iraq?
I'm living with an Iraqi???
Holy smokes...this problem is much bigger than I had imagined.
As a Faithful Texas Orange Cat, I am sworn to protect my country against all enemies. I will fight to the death to keep Iraqi terrorists from invading our country.
Blondie was cuddling up with him, and calling him her grandcat for crying out loud.
That's exactly what I had heard terrorist do. They settle in as a regular type person, and then, when you least expect it, wham, all kinds of horrible things happen.
Meowsie right in the eye and told him I knew what he was up to.
Blondie said he used to be called Sebastian...see what I mean? The dude is covert!
Meowsie may be big, but I am a Texan, and we Texans never forget.
Remember the Alamo!
Remember the Maine!
It clearly is up to me to lead the charge in eradicate this Iraqi threat in MY new homeland.
Staked a few look out points.
Prepared to dig in for battle.
They seemed quite nice, and totally unaware of the threat they were living under.
The weird part about all is is that Jeff was all ready saying he didn't like me.
Meowsie clearly had recruited him to the enemy camp.
skirmishes with the Iraqi terrorist.
I had crept into his area before dawn, and launched an pre-dawn attack on him while he slept.
(The Iraqi sleeps in the same bed as Jeff. Oh Jeff, how could you have betrayed your country and gotten in bed the enemy?)
It was a loud and fierce battle.
Fur flew, we were both in full battle cry, screaming in the dark, paw to paw combat it was.
It really was a fervent effort, and Meowsie was wearing some kind of deep fur device that deflected claws and fangs. I had heard that our enemy had secret weapons; now I know first hand about it.
Jeff told Bernie and Blondie that being woken up by two cats duking it out on top of him at four in the morning was the worst.
Jeff doesn't know anything about the worst.
Iraqi terrorist living in your home, now that's the worst.
It was now my job, and Hart's, to wage all out war on Meowsie.
Meowsie. I discovered that laundry works well as camouflage.
Bernie and Blondie totally did not understand the severity of the situation. They took to locking Hart and me up at night, letting Meowsie have total freedom to wander through out the house, and even to go outside, where clearly he could send messages to his fellow Iraqi hidden through out the area.
(I personally never saw the other Iraqi cats...but I am sure they are out there. I did research, and apparently there are Persian cats in many American homes. Why is the press so silent about this situation? Where is homeland security when you need them????)
Then Meowsie decided to play dirty...really dirty.
He pooped and peed on Jeff's bed.
And told Jeff that I had done it.
I would NEVER stoop so low.
I got locked up day and night for several day, and just about scratched my paws raw trying to get out. Scritch-scritch-scritch on the bedroom door, day and night.
Finally Bernie said Hart and I could take a walk around the house for an hour each morning, during which time Meowsie would be locked up (where I couldn't get at him...why don't they UNDERSTAND what is going on ???)
So while Hart and I were just hanging out in the living room, dumb old locked up Meowsie took another dump on Jeff's bed.
Ha! I told you it wasn't me!
This time we weren't drugged. Hart and I sounded off as best we could about what was going on, but Blondie just kept looking back at us and saying again that everything was going to be OK.
I immediately surveyed our new location.
Hart guarded in one direction while I watched in the other direction.
And a hidden room.
Hart and I hole up in it to make plans for when we get out.
Hart keeps watch from the barracks look out.
We are adjusting. Who knows how long this incarceration will last?
We are making good use of our time stratigizing with our fellow detainees.
Here's another fine orange cat who goes by the handle "Cheetah Pants."
Kenya kept her stripes neat and was ready for action!
Halee was trained in special services: Whenever someone comes into the camp, she drops a load into the litter box. POWERFUL STUFF she makes too.
Then there is "Bob." We have never seen Bob. He stays deeply undercover so no one can ever identify him once he gets out.
I was able to smuggle one picture of where we are being held.
We hear we are being detained in a place called "Draper."
If you happen to know where that is, this is the building we are in.
I trust that rescue efforts are being arranged.
We will stay strong.
We will not give in.
As a POW, I now know this better than ever.
The Iraqi threat must be contained.
Our homeland security must never be compromised!