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When Things go to Shit — Diaries of a Russian Blue
My aroma is taketh, heathen
The ways of my human are troubling. For one, difficulties understanding how precious I am are growing. I am certain that one day I will have to find a new one.
I was taken from my mother approximately 50 years ago, in my time. I was just a child.
Since then, I have learned a lot. For one, my human is a thief.
Who does he think he is? My aroma goes into the sandpit by way of my fecal matter. When I’m not watching, he trashes it away and refills it fresh! I don’t even understand the purpose of this. It’s a glorious build-up, only to be squashed away. I’ll endlessly dig in search of my goods, and they’re nowhere to be found.
Over these years, it’s been wearing on me. I might be losing this battle. I’ve learned to accept that my human is selling these treasures for all the new things in the house. I will scratch them appropriately as revenge.
My entrance.
My human doesn’t understand the complexities of my ways. The night is young, as they say. I must be able to run around and do a few laps at 2 in the morning. If the door isn’t open, I panic. Does my human hate me now? What have I done to be locked out of the sacred…
