So.

It's true.

I can't believe it.

Just two days ago Feeder 1 was letting me lick the last of the tuna from the can before Feeder 2 came home to play with me. Not a hint of the cruelty to come!

They feigned affection for months before unceremoniously abandoning me, flying off to exotic lands after dumping me on someone's doorstep.

I saw the stack of suitcases and mountains of clothes strewn about, but really, minus the suitcases it wasn't much different from laundry day.  I ignored the doubt creeping into my royal cat brain, believing that if they were going ANYwhere, they'd investigate the best ways to travel with a member of the sublime feline species.

It's been done before. Numerous times! But I guess not by me.

Which could be forgiven, over time, if they had set me up in one of the many lovely, alternative accommodations such as The Paw Print Inn, where spring water and tuna are offered every day.

If they really cared, wouldn't they have escorted me to the Evergreen Cat Lodge, where I'd get an honest to goodness suite and dogs are canis lupus familiaris non grata? At the Cat Lodge "suites have exterior windows which allow our feline guests to enjoy views of the 9 acre estate and its abundant wildlife. When not sightseeing, our guests may be found curled up on a home-made afghan in front of a fireplace..."! A home-made afghan! And they clean your litter box twice a day!

Or how about the Longcroft Cat Hotel where they begin playing classical music every night at 6 and "Sunday Brunch is succulent ham, free range chicken, and shrimp terrine"?

Nope. No shrimp terrine for me. They left me at....well, I really don't know where I am, but there's no sign of a cat suite and not a hint of tuna.

I'm slinking off to find a quiet, dark corner, where I can pout in peace.

I may or may not come out.

Ever.

Wait. Do I smell tuna?....