WTF? The Conclusion

I'm in a cage, in a room, with other cats in cages, including Pinot and Chow. I'm in my kitty litter. I don't plan to move. As if I could do anything except just sit and stare. Well, they know I can't move a paw. And I won't. I'll just sit here and be quiet, just in case they do suspect me.
They're probably watching me. Well, let them. Let them see what kind of cat I am.
A fly has landed upon her paw.
I'm not even going to eat that fly. I hope they are watching. They'll see. They'll see, and they'll know, and they'll say... (as she slowly raises his eyes to meet ours, smirking) 'Why, she wouldn't even harm a fly!' [with apologies to Alfred Hitchcock]. So, what can I say. The Old Guy ditched us at the Airport Kennel. Seems he's going to NYC for the week. Ok, for the first two days I stayed in the kitty litter. But, due to popular demand and outright food bribery, I warmed up and let the people pet me, carry me, brush me, and, finally (oh the horror), bathe me and cut my nails. When the Old Guy came to pick me up, I yowled all the way home. Then when I was in the garage I continued yowlling. I checked out everything, tried to run in the house, yowlled some more. The Old Guy appologized over and over. He brushed me, gave me treats, carried me, pleaded with me . . . ok, so maybe I'll forgive him. I haven't decided on the exchange rate for forgiveness yet. I'll let him suffer a little.