The humans hold me down and cut my fur. I must have carried something out of the litter box. I do not like this. I hiss and bite the female to express my displeasure.
March 16
The humans come back talking of flat tires and shopping. They slap at bugs and talk about dry skin. I like that we are not moving. I sit on the table and watch.
March 15
We left the muddy place when it dried out. The humans stuffed me the bag again and we went to a hot, dusty place where the trees look dead but apparently are alive. The humans leave during the day. I watch for the dog. I hear more dogs but cannot see them. I look for hiding places.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Rain. Drips from the vent right above the bed. Too bad humans. I'm going to sleep on the couch.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
We stayed in a place right off the highway last night. All night there were trains and trucks roaring by. Why do the humans do this? It is so noisy.
There were groups of people who rode in Razers (little 4x4s). This is a very popular sport for older white-haired humans.
We went by thousands of RVs and mobile villages as we drove through Lake Havasue and there were many white-haired humans driving expensive cars.
Today we are east of Phoenix with the male humans friends. They talk about their motorcycles and drink beer.
There are bad cactus's around. Needles that jump off and attach to you.
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