The end is Near
Things have been going sideways fast. The atmosphere is thick with tension. They are making lists, never a good sign. Never good. Can you imagine living out of lists of things you have to do? At a certain times? Sleeping eight hours in a row and missing the best part of night? Some humans even work at night, sleep in the daytime . . . slavery, but they seem born to it. It’s what they do. Go figure.
It’s been getting worse for kats. The female servant’s brought home two of those medieval cat cages. This is so not good. I’m curious of course, and sniff around the thing. Might as well know more about what’s going to happen. I knew this was coming up. I told Amber, but she acts as though she doesn’t care. She’s more interested in getting her nails done. I’m a poet . . . an artist with deep feelings and great courage. Hemingway was very much like me.
Housewoman picks me up. Her name is Lou. It’s easier to type her name—less letters. I already know what’s going to happen and don’t struggle—pretty sure it’s just a test. But this does not bode well. She drops me down into a cage and zips it up. I’m in a prison barely big enough to turn around in.
Walls are made of thin black mesh. I can see out, but looking is the only thing I can do. There's no room for movement. I can barely turn around. This trip is going to be a bitch. Lou opens up the top, expecting me to jump out in a panic, but I don’t. I give her my, ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this’ stare. She’s gone looking for Amber now. I'll hang around and watch, see how she takes to this. There’s no escape. We’re doomed!