The New Garfield Chronicles, Part 1

It is I, Garfield the Magnificent. My two-legged told me the other day that someone who reads her blog missed my posts, and I haven’t composed anything for a long, long time. I think my life has just been too busy with all the comings and goings and her long absences.

Anyway, did I tell you that I got moved? For good while, things started disappearing from my home and large cardboard boxes appeared. I did like jumping in them when they were empty, but got a surprise when I landed on things they’d put in the boxes. I enjoyed digging their sides, too. Very satisfying to drag my claws down the cardboard, until I got swatted.

Then one morning, when there was so little left in the house I could hardly figure out where to relax, my two-legged swept me up from the bed and carried me down to the bathroom, where that horrible, terrible cage awaited. Mind, she’d been carrying me around for about two weeks, so I wasn’t prepared when she jammed me in. I let her know what I thought about that.

Then she took me to a place where someone took the cage with me in it and transferred me to a larger cage in a place with a lot of other dogs and cats. The speed with which this happened overwhelmed me, especially since my two-legged didn’t have time to say goodbye. It didn’t help to hear all the sob stories from the other cats who were living there. They were all lonely and told me sad stories of various pokings, proddings, and treatments and how lonely they were. Some were just there for nothing, like me. I figured this was the end for me. The cats disappeared one by one, just like in that place I came from, something called a shelter.

I wasn’t going down without a fight! I refused to eat for two days, until hunger just made me eat the food they provided – it turned out to be my cuisine, and I wondered where THAT came from. I spent my days hunkered in the back of that cage—except for using the box – and refused to let anyone pet me. Day after day rolled by. The other cats continued to leave, and I hoped to a better place.

Finally, one day, a long arm and a strong hand grabbed me by the neck and put me back in the cage I’d arrived in. Then, miracle of miracles, I heard my two-legged’s voice. I’d been saved! I was going home! In the car, she kept telling me how sorry she was, that they’d had to live in a place called a hotel for a long while until the new house was ready, and the hotel wouldn’t take cats.

When we got to where we were going, she let me out in a small room with some of my favorite food, water, and a box. “You just relax and get used to this place,” she said and closed the door. After a while, she came in and petted me, and of course, I just had to purr up a storm, I was so happy to be anywhere but that cage. Then she opened the door and said, “Welcome to your new home.”

 

I have to admit I was confused. It wasn’t my home, really, but I recognized a lot of the things from before: tables, sofas, beds etc. There was even a room with her desk and my cat tree right by a big window. I wandered around for about five seconds and spent the rest of the day climbing into her lap as soon as she sat down.

That night, I let her know how happy I was to see her by climbing all over her in bed, kneading the blankets, and purring and licking her arm up and down. I didn’t sleep much and I think she didn’t either.

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