Poor Puck

My name is Puck (named after Puck from Midsummer Night's Dream and not The Real World). Seven years ago, I meet this lady who needed a companion. Her roommate had moved to Austin and she didn't want to be alone all the time. Her boyfriend was living with his Grandmother and they were in negotiations to move in together, but still she needed a friend. So, she brought me home and it was great for the first few months. Until she decided I needed a friend to keep me company while she was at work. So she added Slick to the family. He is not such a bad cat, but man, is he a scrawny little thing.

Eventually, this girl and her boyfriend bought a house together and lived in sin until they got married. There have been more members added to the family. Moe was after Slick (there was some joke about Moe being the third stooge, but I never got what was funny about that). Next there was an invasion of the canine variety, which if I am being perfectly honest, sucked outloud. I mean honestly what was she thinking bringing in those suck-up butt-sniffers? Well, either way, no one asked my opinion, so we all adapted and only occasionally do things turn ugly or you could say "the fur flies".

So as you can see we have all made sacrifices and changes in order to build our happy family. Then one day it all changed. That crazy lady and her man brought home these two strange-looking, extremely loud, very-stinky strays. It was like our family was being torn apart. At night, there was never any peace and quiet. These creatures wailed and screamed for attention. Not once thinking of the sleep that both I and my fellow furred family needed. We had very busy days planned with stretching, cleaning, eating and batting at fuzzy balls (or shaking stuffed animals in the case of the canines). It was a tough time in our family and one that almost landed all of us in therapy or at least on major meds to control the anxiety, but we made it through.

Now I know that these strays are actually their human children and aren't just passing through until a good home could be found for them. The horror experienced the day she told me that I could not lay in her lap because she was feeding the boys. I knew it would only be a matter of time before I would have worse indignities to contend with and that day is now.

I try to ignore it as much as I can, but for some reason this one thinks I am a pillow. He also thinks I want to eat imaginary food off a spoon. Last week, he tried to make me drink out of his "sippy" cup (what ever the hell that is). I know I just have to lay back and think about something else, but sometimes its hard. I feel so violated. He doesn't even give me a treat when he is done.

But no matter how violated I feel by the other one, it is nothing compared to this one. He is always coming at me with something. I don't mind a good back scratching like anyone else, but did he really have to use a big stick to do it. I knew at any moment I would be knocked unconscious only to wake up in a den of beagles with bacon stuck to my recently shaved body. This one also likes to bring me things. He recently tried to see if those things that stick to the side of the refrigerator would stick to me. Every time it fell off, he would put it back and then press it down to help it stay. Last night, he tried stacking up blocks on me and when they slid off, he screamed and jumped up and down. I was afraid for my life. I tried to hold still so the blocks would not fall, but you have to realize I am not flat. I am fluffy and no matter how much I sucked in my stomach, those blocks were going to fall off.

I can only hope that I can avoid their attention as often as possible. The rest of the cats and I are banding together to ensure that the canines are always front and center when these things are around. We have all agreed that we will migrate to the floor that these "toddlers" (I guess that's what they are called) are not on and then stay there until they go to bed. If we need food, water or the "box", we send down Slick to run interference. He is scrawny but fast and if he gets caught, he always seems to get lose. Last week, we thought it would be the end of Slick but some how he made it back to base camp with both cheeks full of food and a canteen of water (okay, I made that up, but this is war and we will not be taken alive... okay I made that up too..)

Bottom-line, I took on this gig to give some companionship to this lonely single broad and ended up in a houseful of nutters who think it is funny to put bunny ears on me and take my picture. I guess the moral of this story is know your options before you agree to anything and never (and I mean ever) turn your back on the little ones. They are fast.