Something is clearly going on. Bags for life stuffed with all sorts have started appearing. One even seems to contain my belongings. I don’t remember authorising this.
After a good sleep, morning arrives again, but the humans are up earlier than usual. Suspicious behaviour. The bags begin to disappear… and then my cat carrier appears. Of course it does. My female human has clearly caught on. My blanket has been replaced with newspaper. Newspaper. What am I?, an animal!
I protest loudly as they shove me in. I want my blanket. I feel that’s not unreasonable.
I’m placed in the back of the car with the female, and off we go. Naturally, I register my disapproval by peeing in the box just as we arrive somewhere with a large box they call a caravan. Timing is everything.
I shout to be let in, but I’m ignored while they attach it to the car. Fresh newspaper is provided (still not my blanket), and we set off again. I might as well sleep if customer service is going to be this poor.
After my longest journey yet, we arrive somewhere new. So much grass. So many things to observe. So many smells I am not currently allowed to investigate. Rude.
At last, I’m allowed into the caravan. I select my seat carefully, it must meet my very high sleeping standards. A quick turn, a small adjustment, another turn… yes, this will do. Travelling is exhausting work.
From my new perch at the bathroom window, I observe the comings and goings. It’s the perfect vantage point. Frankly, I should be charging for my security services.
After a solid night’s sleep, my stomach feels… questionable. He is making cups of tea just as the remains of my midnight snack land squarely on my chosen seat. I’m not sure why he’s so bothered, she has those throws, and they wash. That’s literally their job. Still, he huffs and gives me a look. Very dramatic.
They tell me they’re going out and won’t be long. They leave the radio on, nice touch, and crack the windows for a breeze and lower the blinds to keep the sun out. Crucially, my bathroom viewing window remains uncovered, just not enough room to sunbathe. Finally, some good decision making.
I hear the door close. Time for a nap. Being this observant is tiring.
Soon enough, I hear the crunch of gravel, their return. I prepare myself for the customary “who’s a good boy” and accompanying treat. I even position myself for maximum adorableness. But no. In and out again, something about a toilet. Honestly, the organisation is shocking.
They return shortly after. That’s better. More treats. Order has been restored.
This caravan life… not terrible. Not terrible at all.
The door opens and closes frequently. They think I haven’t noticed, but I have. And sometimes, sometimes, they attempt to pass off kibble as treats. I say nothing. I simply remember.
They also sleep far longer than usual. Naturally, I take it upon myself to check they’re still alive. Walking across their heads at 5am is sufficient. A paw in the hair, a gentle step on the face, very thorough. They grumble, but really, I’m providing a vital service. You’re welcome.
One evening, a strange contraption appears from a cupboard and is fastened around my body. I freeze. This cannot be good. The door opens. I am allowed outside.
Cautiously, I step onto the grass. Fresh air. New smells. Freedom… with terms and conditions.
I head for the bushes, only to notice she is following me closely, unusual and frankly suspicious. The sun comes out, a bird tweets, and I have a brief moment of madness. Then I realise, I am twangled in the blasted contraption.
I am promptly picked up and returned to the safety of the caravan. Dignity slightly dented. Adventure concluded.
The next day, I’m introduced to something even more curious, a large cage. I feel like a lion in a zoo, which seems appropriate given my presence. I pace, take stock. Food, water, litter tray. Acceptable accommodations.
Just as I’m settling, he drapes a towel over one side. I soon discover why, peeping beneath the towel I spy a dog next door that has spotted me and begun whining. Clearly overwhelmed by my magnificence.
I retreat to my shelf and close my eyes. I’m not sleeping. I’m just resting my eyes.
They continue their comings and goings. Treats appear regularly and are, of course, accepted with the grace they deserve.
He sits watching outside through the caravan window muttering to himself. I join him on the windowsill to supervise. A large dog passes. From my elevated position, I issue a low grumble to establish authority. The dog continues walking. I’ll take that as respect.
She gets out a hook and some stringy stuff that I like to play with. Not today though, there’s too much going on outside for me to watch.
The sun warms my fur. I relocate behind the TV for a brief rest. Just five minutes. Possibly longer.
Then, once again, the bags return.
My food is packed. My bowls disappear. And there it is…
The carrier.
We meet again.
I haven’t seen it all week, and honestly, I was hoping that phase of my life was behind me.
No matter. I’ll wait until we’re five minutes down the road… and pee in it again.
Just to keep her alert on the journey home.
Safety first.
inpursuitofadream.com 
Leave a comment