Another couple of days went by like that–a blur of noises and bouncing around in my tiny cage.
At some point, I was carried–cage and all–into a strange building and placed in a bathroom. Another pill was stuffed down my throat. The next time I came to my senses, I was back in the car, with Mellie in a cage next to mine. I looked over and found her staring at me sympathetically.
“You don’t know what’s going on, do you?” she said.
“What? No, I don’t. Do you?” I replied.
“Yes, we are moving to Texas.”
“We? Who’s we? And why? And how do you know?” I questioned.
“I heard them talking. The whole family–Brittany and everyone–is going. Even those annoying dogs. They packed up all the things, including my bed. That’s why that big truck was there,” she explained.
“My bed. That used to be my bed, you know,” I said.
“It’s not my fault you pissed on the wall,” she said. “Anyway, just be glad they’re even taking us with them,” she continued. “I think the father didn’t want to.”
“Well, I wish they hadn’t taken me,” I said. “I liked my life back in that yard, roaming free. It sure beat this!”

“Quit complaining,” she said. “They’ll probably have a yard at their new Texas house where you can do your roaming…while I’m inside curled up on Brittany’s bed.”
When Mellie talked, I could tell that she, like me, was no “spring kitten.” She was probably as old as, or maybe even older than, me. I didn’t dislike her quite as much when she was explaining things to me, until she made that crack about Brittany’s bed, that is. She was pretty quiet the rest of the trip.
I knew we had arrived at the “Texas” place when they carried my cage from the car, set it down next to a house, and opened the cage door.

© Copyright 2015 Ginny Brinkley