Right, my name is Kira, and I own a house in Wytheville. Some other cats and humans and one big dog live there, too. It’s like foster care or something. So here’s what happened.

I’m sitting there in the sunbeam minding my own business, just finishing up a spit bath, and WHAM without so much as a by-your-leave I am hoisted into the air and carried to a carrier.

I do not like carriers. They usually end in a journey someplace where you get poked and prodded and maybe lose a couple of parts. Not that I begrudge the parts. Never wanted kids.

So I start vocalizing my opinions on this piece of skullduggery but I am carried IN SUBZERO TEMPERATURES  *editor’s note: it was 42 degrees* out to a car, and I think yeah, here we go. And go we did. We went, and went, and went. It coulda been days. *editor’s note: it was three hours*

Finally, the car stops, and my people and the dog get out, again there’s a freezing trip through the air, and inside this overwarm house there’s this nice lady and this guy.  The lady wants to make a fuss, but I’ve had enough of not knowing what’s going on and I bolt for the nearest closet.

It’s a nice closet. Fuzzy sweaters hanging up and one conveniently knockable to the floor. Whadaya know ’bout that? (I don’t know nothin’, see. It was there when I get there, I says.)

A few hours of sleep, some restorative wet lunch (I think that was the lady’s way of apologizing) and I’m right as rain. Ready for some of that loving the lady wants to send my way. She’s got a nice lap. My human lady keeps calling this lady “Mom” so I figure I better be on my good behavior. A little eye batting, a little purring… yep, worked like a charm.

From this vantage point I can eavesdrop on their conversation. Turns out, this whole trip is for the dog. THE DOG??!! He has to have knee surgery. Old football injury or something. All this inconvenience to me, for the sake of the house canine? He isn’t even on payroll, just an accessory. Sheesh.

Well, there’s gonna be extra wet supper, I can tell you. I did tell my human, vocally, several times. She got the hint.

That night I snooze with the guy and the lady from the house, and next morning my human slides the door open to let the precious invalid dog out, and I take my shot. I like outdoors, visit it pretty regular back home, so it’s not like I’m stupid and not gonna come back. I know which side my foodbowl sits upright on.

So like I said, out I goes and—

–what the hell? Is this the Apocalypse?? WHAT IS THIS STUFF???!!!

I kid you not, fellas, the ground was covered with this cold white dead ash. I guess somebody finally sent the bomb up? Is this gonna affect my food supply? Back in I go, everything normal in there (well, at least as normal can be when a family prioritizes the dog) and I warn them. I warn them loudly and well. Truly, I tell them the end of the world is upon us and they need to go the store RIGHT NOW and buy ALL the tuna. QUICK.

And my human, she LAUGHS at me. “SNOW” she calls it. “It’s just snow, pussytuddums,” she says, all prissy sweet. I HATE it when she calls me… that name.

Anyway, I milked it. Got second breakfast out of the whole deal.

So that’s my story, and you can see it was an easy mistake to make. Never seen the stuff before, y’know? How was I supposed to know?

But they did buy me tuna. So it’s all good.