Visiting “Grandma”

I should have known something was up when she stuck the dreaded collar around my neck last week but nothing happened so I didn’t worry. She’s sneaky, though, and you would think I’d know it by now. Last night it all became clear. She returned home from… wherever she disappears to… and stuffed us both into our carriers where we spent the next several hours in terror. She didn’t let me out no matter how much I serenaded either. Honestly, she should try spending three hours cowering in a box.

And now I’m stuck at “Grandma’s”. Yeah. I’m using quotes. I know she’s not my real grandma. They aren’t fooling me. And also, I don’t like it here. There are other cats and I’m not allowed to beat them up. Other things I’m not allowed to do include pooping on the floor, scratching absolutely anyone and sneaking out of my room. It’s horrible here and I hate it.

As soon as “mom” picks me up, I’m going to pee on her shoes.

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