PATTON'S SAD TAIL- VOL. V

Pet carriers and car rides used to scare the shit out of me.  You don't believe me?  Go check out the stains in my master's car.

 
I remember the first day in my new home, a ground level condo next to a nice little courtyard with a pond and walking path.  I didn't make much of the interior, because there wasn't much to it.  Bare walls, sparse furniture, and bad carpeting greeted me upon my arrival. 

My master placed me in the middle of the living room floor still in my canvas cage.  I was being acclimated like a store bought goldfish.  That's when I found out I had adopted siblings.  Ghasm was already hiding under the shabby sofa, his terrified saucer eyes peeking out from the darkness.  Plato, on the other hand, walked right up to my carrier to greet me.

I probably shouldn't have welcomed him so rudely; hissing and spitting hate and fear, ripping at the carrier with my little baby claws.  He didn't mind though.  He knew the drill; seen it a dozen times before.  That's why he's the king.  He'll always be my master's favorite.  I should have broken his crooked neck as soon as I had the chance.  I'm sorry.  I do consider him like a father.  Kill. 

I don't remember much after that and before the change.  Probably because it was so...f***ing...boring!  Here's a day in the life (yeah, that's why I don't know what the hell a day is):

1. Wake up (What time is it?  Who cares.)
2. Eat.  Eat.  Eat.
3. Drink.  Drink.  Drink.
4. Potty break.
5. Scratch.  Scratch.  Scratch.
6. Lick. Lick.  Li...gag.  (I'm sorry.  I just can't believe I use to do that all...the...time.)
7. Wrestle Plato.  (Hey, he wanted to.)
8. Torment Ghasm.  (In retrospect...bad idea.  Ghasm, if you're reading this, I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry.  Please don't kill me.)
9. Repeat steps 2-6.
10. Nap time.
11. Repeat steps 1-6.
12. Repeat steps 7-12.
13. Repeat steps 1-13 ad infinitum.

Jesus, how can a life so mundane be so confusing?  Before I realized, I was a three year old fatass with fur.  Then, things got weird.   The master started bringing home what I assumed were strays.  Dozens of them, one at a time.  He'd always keep them in the carrier or locked in the bathroom, and they'd never be here for more than a couple days...and they'd never return.

The master started staying out for longer and longer periods of time.  I'm not the best at judging the passage of time, but there's a while, then there's a more while.

Plato's age started really showing right before the odd events.  Wrestling him wasn't even fun anymore.  I'd paw-slap him upside his mangy head and he'd just flop to the ground.  I'd pounce on him and he'd just wheeze, struggle from under me, and hobble under the bed. 

Every now and then, I'd look to Ghasm for a good scrap.  I'd burrow his ass from under the couch and truck him into one of the walls.  But it was usually a one shot deal.  It's amazing where a cat can wedge itself when they're possessed by fear.  Again, if you're reading this, Ghasm, I'm so very sincerely sorry. 

I suddenly felt alone again.  Plato was a geriatric puddle of fur beyond convalescence and Ghasm a neurotic shadow of terror.  The master was out most of the while, and the seemingly endless march of feral rabble wasn't around long enough to offer any companionship.  Suddenly, I was back in the shelter, and it sucked.

Then came the day Ghasm disappeared.  The master's absence corresponding to this event was the longest I could remember.  I think he was gone for like seven or eight months.  Wait, how many times did I repeat my routine.  Oh yeah, days, right?  A couple of days.  Shut up.  Let's see how well you tell time after you've spent most your life in a crappy apartment.

When the master finally returned, his face bore a look I'd never seen before; that of deep loss and regret.  His clothes were tattered and bloody, and the top of his skull brandished a set of long deep wounds.  He saw me sitting on my cat tower and looked at me as if begging forgiveness.  Then he went into the bedroom and out of sight.

I flopped my fat ass off the tower and followed him.  As I entered the bedroom, I saw him kneeling and bowing to look under the bed.  I rubbed my face along his thigh as a sign of acceptance and understanding, though I didn't know what the hell was going.  He simply reached a hand back and pushed me away.  Dick.

"I'm sorry." I remember him saying to Plato.  "It didn't work.  I couldn't do it.  I'm gonna have to take you in.  I can't see you like this."

Whoa, wait a minute.  You mean...can somebody please tell me what this means?  My master stood up and looked at me with what I now remember being comatose disappointment, like soon I'd be all he had left.  What an asshole.  He then walked somberly into the bathroom and ran a bath.  The lights went dead and the door closed.  Ghasm never returned.

Hey, Ghasm.  I know you're out there somewhere.  I can feel your hate within me. 

I'm closer than you think, and you're all gonna die.

Now leave me alone, I'm devouring a book.