He Is Siamese If You Please
By Gigabyte Humphrey (Typed by Amanda Flower because Gig doesn’t have thumbs.)
When my mistress, Chloe Humphrey, told me that we were leaving our urban pad in Cleveland for the boondocks of Appleseed Creek, I nearly coughed up a hairball. I am a Siamese not a mere barn cat, who romps through the fields and catches mice. I like my mice made of plastic and preferably cotton. And what about my paws? How clean could this place be? I’m used to living at a certain level of sophistication. Did she even think of me before accepting this new job? Of course not. If she had, we would be in a loft in New York City right now. That’s the kind of place for a cat with my superior pedigree.
Despite my vocal complaints, and since I am Siamese I can really caterwaul, Chloe made us move. So instead of my two bedroom apartment with a city view, I’m living in a rundown old Victorian house in the middle of nowhere. This place is a disaster. I mean, the doorknob literally fell off the front door when we entered the house. If it weren’t for the Troyers, an Amish family Chloe befriended, I don’t know what I would do.
Not everything about the Troyers is grand. Timothy Troyer, who is close to Chloe’s age, is sniffing around, and I don’t like it. She’s mine. I should be the only male in her life. What does she need him for? Sure, he has thumbs and can fix things, but isn’t personality what really counts? I’ve got the personality. Also, he has a dog. Enough said. I may have to leave a little present in his shoe sometime, if you catch my drift.
Thankfully, Becky Troyer, Timothy’s nineteen-year-old sister, is a keeper. She moved in with Chloe and me right after we arrived in town. She can cook. As much as I love Chloe (don’t tell her I said that!) she is a failure in the kitchen. I’ve witnessed her set fire to a microwave and short circuit a toaster on the SAME DAY. It wasn’t pretty. Becky, on the other paw, is a gourmet, and she truly understands my value. Every morning, she makes me sausage or bacon for breakfast, and she makes cat treats from scratch. She’s a blessing in an otherwise dreadful situation. I would never leave a “present” in her shoe… unless she forgets to make my breakfast, of course. Cats must remind the humans who is in charge.
I suppose I must make do because Chloe seems determined to stay in this Amish town, and despite all her failings, I can’t leave her. She needs me, and she’s my best friend (don’t tell her I said that either!). Now, I’m off for a nap, right after I sharpen my nails on her bedroom curtains. It’s how I show my love.
Readers can learn more about Amanda on her website, www.amandaflower.com, or through social media. She loves connecting with readers through Facebook and Twitter.
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