My Life as Norman Whiskers: How I Fell in Love With My Lady

Oh goodie, a blog. Where is the keyboard? Okay, here it goes:

So I'm in a scuffle with a giant Blue Jay living in a cement block in the Lowe's parking lot, an I-talian I think, and the next thing I know I'm being swept up by a net of large proportions and hurled into a compartment in a truck that smells of hounds and Febreze spray.

"Wait!" I cry. I used to be owned and I am in the process of securing a new address...I swear it!" I shout. The human who nets me seems quite indifferent.

I arrive at a brown building where I am given a number and put in a cage amid a group of unkempt and bad-mouthed cats.

"Welcome to Death Row," says a skinny, nervous black cat named Clement. "Death Row! How dreadful," I think, wondering how this problem came to be. "I must, must do something to escape."

Then I remember that it is Christmas Eve. "Well, that is hopeful," I say aloud to a bowl of Friskies cat food. When I close my eyes to rest, I dream I am saved by an angel.

A few weeks later, it actually happens! The lady is the most ravishing human I've ever seen. She walks straight to my cage and leans toward me to whisper:

"Norman! Where have you been all my life?"

Her perfume is a mixture of garlic knots and baby spit, simply tantalizing! I smile like Brad Pitt in a picture I saw on the cover of a People magazine.

She picks me up and looks straight into my eyes.

"Hello," I say, purring. "I love you."

Now, I've heard that pick-up line never works, but desperate times call for desperate measures. To my surprise, my Lady turns to the jailer and declares, "I love him. I'll take him." Surely I would have died that evening if not for my Lady who heard my prayer.

Within fifteen minutes, I am waving goodbye to Clement and heading out the door scrunched inside a secret cardboard box, quite incognito.

She takes me off to a wonderful house and dresses me in a BLING bow tie, as they say on the street. (See picture). Of course, like in any house, there exists forces of good and evil, and I must be cautious. The children for example, are lovely humans. I'm particularly fond of the mini-lady who dances and sings off-key. She has been assigned as my governess, teaching me patriotic songs, how to diaper a plastic infant human, and checking my where-abouts now and A-gain. The one negative thus far is the presence of a foe, a dog called Hell Hound. I am wary of this beast. He approaches me once and I immediately prove I can take him down with one punch. It seems that my Lady does not want me to injure this creature, and I owe it to her to obey. That, however, does not rule out unforeseen accidents. I'll have to think on this.

Upstairs I happen across an old cat in a wardrobe drawer. I follow her toward the window. "Looking for birds?" I ask. However, she does not hear me and begins singing the chorus of "Memories." When she is through she extends one paw up toward the window, longingly.

"Whatever are you doing old girl?" I ask, thinking her rather peculiar.

"Waiting for my ship. There is nothing left for me here. I am old," she says, yawning. "I am Princess Leah. Where did you come from? Does my Lady know you're here?" She asks.

I nod. "Why yes. I was in the worst state of affairs, and your Lady saved me from the jaws of death. In the prison where I was being held captive, our eyes met, and we were drawn together by mutual love."

"Oh, I see," says the old cat, licking her matted tail. "I share a similar story. I met my Lady ten years ago in the prison. She took me out of my cage and I clung to her shoulders for dear life. 'I want this one,' she said, and it was decided. A few months later she took home a human named Milk Man in much the same way. What is your name?"

"Comet ..er.. I mean...Norman Whiskers." I correct myself. "Tell me, ...this Milk Man, does he have real milk? I have a feeling he is a foe, an obstacle between my Lady and I," I say sadly.

As she begins speaking again I see my reflection in her ancient eyes. "On the contrary, Norman. Milk Man does bring in real milk, and his socks smell wonderful."

I thank the old cat and let her be alone by the window. Tonight I have much to ponder about my new life. I am ready to gaze lovingly at my Lady until my life is no more, forever thankful for her kindness. As for that dog, well, LIFE is dangerous, and unlike a cat, he only has one to lose.

CHEERIO!

-Norman Whiskers