Collared

I hate it when the Old Guy decides it's time for me to try something new. It usually results in something bad. Things have been going great in the garage lately. I like being able to move around. I meow and come running whenever the Old Guy or Pretty Lady come in. And I'm more curious and less hissy when I see the Big Orange Head.

However, just when things start to settle down around here, the Old Guy decides it's time to go to the next step of his mission to tame a feral cat. While I was laying innocently in the Old Guy's lap, purring and getting brushed, he picked up a pink string with a bell on it. He called it a cat collar. He messed around with it. I thought it was a new toy and tried to grab it. The next thing I know I'm being strangled by the Old Guy and after that I've got the cat collar on around my neck. Well, at first I was none too happy. I rolled and shook. After a while I kind of forgot about it. The Old Guy went out and the Pretty Lady came in. When the Pretty Lady is around I like to roll on the mat near the washer while she works. Well, while I was rolling, the cat collar got moved up and got stuck in my mouth. I freaked and the Pretty Lady called the Old Guy who . . . You guessed it . . . chased me around the garage. But, I kind of like the Old Guy and don't try to hide anymore. So he finally caught me and took off the cat collar. It's now sitting on top of the cage and I'm trying to decide where to hide it from the Old Guy.