I need a spa day…

Like seriously. Maybe a spa year. Anyone wanna pretend foster me for a while? I’m losing it over here.

So, I’m sure many of you if not all have questions in regards to my past whereabouts and extended absence. Let me assure you that none of you have been forgotten. I think of you all each day as my urban gymnasium has now turned into a multi use insane asylum ever since the new fuzzball arrived. I will admit that she has gotten better. Myself and my other sister Pima have been training the little shit since day number one and have been doing so day in and day out. It’s most unfortunate that the little one now is not so little and constantly uses her newly acquired skillsets completely against us.

For example, I bled the other day for no reason. Was just walking by and *scratch* that little fuzzy paw came out of nowhere. Freya did the same to the short haired authority the other day right in front of me. I almost openened a container of whipped hiney pate’ and served it to her, but I’m clearly the better cat in this present situation and every other situation for that matter.

She (Freya) eats all of our food the minute we walk away after having just a snack. She has gotten much larger since she arrived here. I’m curious if this is not some sort of reincarnation of our late Cleo the #loafcat, but this thing is just mean sometimes for no reason. It must come with the territory. Since I left my birthplace, I’m sure there is no cat there to handle things as well as I did except for my sister. I hear she is doing well there. That’s good news for once.

We have also taught little one how to snuggle. Boy did she take that to an entirely different level. We rarely get to snuggle with the authorities anymore. I miss that… The authorities understand though. They run maneuvers under the cover of night and with the aid of strategically placed treat decoys to occupy the enemy so we can sneak into the authorities bunker and visit for rubs and scratches. The new kid has zero control over her appetite. In her defense, her mom was a lil fluffy as well.

As of recent, we are not sure where we failed in fuzzball’s training, but we may have given her some sort of seperation anxiety. Why is this do you ask? Simple. See photo below. The short haired authority was sneaking up to bait the treat traps for later while I stood watch. Unfortunately I had already been captured approximately 1 hr and 47 minutes ago zulu time. I could not move. I could not speak. There was nothing I could push down the stairs to alert the authorities except fuzzball. That thought crossed my mind more times than it should have. Clearly I can take her down wth a single paw, but I do not want to disrespect her because deep down, she is my sister and she’s cute when she waddles down the hall. It makes me giggle inside. Chonky cat. hehe

So yeah, this is how it went down. We teach fuzzball some stuff and this is what we get. A furrever holy terror that just turned up the cat knob to way past level 10. Another trick I did not teach her was about media blackouts and I think it’s happening right now. What in the hell have I created?

*scuffling noises* Look at me! I am your captain now! *more scuffling noises* with some assorted banging sounds. Yay.