Hi everyone, Katie here.
I always know when something's up in my townhouse. Black suitcases and stacks of neatly folded t-shirts on the bed mean I'm about to be abandoned. So does the extra large food dish filled to the brim. Which by the way I always finish no matter how much I have to overeat. If I'm going to be abandoned I want someone to feel a little guilt.
But abandonment pales in comparison to invasion. It starts off simple. Glogirly doing a little laundry...first, it's the sheets from my room. (The room that used to be Gabe's before he left to become a Marine.) Then the towels from what used to be his bathroom but is now my private watering hole. The vacuum is never a good sign.
But the worst is the closed door.
I hate closed doors. Something about not wanting cat hair on MY bed. Can you believe it! All of these things combined spell big trouble.
They spell INVASION.
Fortunately I happen to know it's Gabe who is coming home in a few days. It could be much worse. It could be those Maine Coon New Englanders. It could be those loud party people. When Gabe arrives I'll get one small hiss out of the way, just to let him know I mean business, and then we'll all be fine. Well I'll be fine as long as gloman doesn't catch me mid-hiss. He may be onto me, but I'm fast enough, I'm sneaky enough and doggone it I'm a cat.