Sometimes my human puts me up high on the carpeted skyscraper. It is like I am an eagle surveying my domain; my heart beats faster and I feel so powerful. I turn and scratch the carpeted post until I feel satisfaction. I then curl up in the warm embrace of my own majesty. My eyelids droop and my tongue sometimes protrudes from my mouth.
When it's time to get down, I can't do it by myself. My human comes and deposits me in my natural habitat, the floor.
This morning, though, I vaulted off the skyscraper without my human's assistance. It was an act of desperation. The scary men with noise machines came into the backyard. They wear masks over their noses and mouths, and they wield long sticks with blades that shear the grass outside. There are also long tubes that blast air at leaves and create tornadoes. They point their machines at my natural habitat, the ground. Surely they mean me harm. When I saw them approach the window, I evacuated the skyscraper and thudded to the ground. I took refuge under the couch until the noise abated.
No comments:
Post a Comment