The hands are no longer lethal weapons....

A few days ago, El Gordo decided he would take me for a little ride. He put me in a little cage and put me in his car with Maggie. He dropped Maggie off at a safe house and then drove me miles and miles away. I assumed he was taking me back to where I came from. Unfortunately, the last car trip I had, the Matthews had me in some isolation chamber that didn't enable me to map the route. I meowed for a few miles, but then realizing it was fruitless to complain, decided to just sit and enjoy the ride.

We arrived at a rather plain looking building with metal fencing around it. Some sort of prison, I was sure. To the other side was a odd looking set of doorless garages and a big sign that said, Dog and Suds. Great. Going straight into the enemy camp. The fat one took me out of the car and walked to the entry way. There I saw a bunch of other cats, including one trapped in a contraption like the one I had around me. We walked in and there were a bunch of women in lab coats. "Egads!", I thought, I'm here for some science experiment. Jabba the Owner waited in line behind these other evil owners and kept looking at his watch. What??? Too busy to send me to my doom? We finally got up front and I heard Tubby getting upset over money and whether I had my shots. He then took me in a little room with some other woman in a lab coat. She poked and prodded me and looked in my ears. Enough with the ears already.

After that, it was a blur. I was locked in a cage surrounded by other screaming cats and dogs. There was a grey cat like Jax who complained louder than he ever did. What was this place? Eventually a lab coat came and injected me with something. A truth serum, no doubt. After that, it was dark for hours.

I don't remember much until Saturday, when I woke up and tried to claw the lab coat who was trying to feed me. My claws wouldn't come out. They'd cut off the very weapons I used to take care of myself. I fell asleep, feeling defeated by these evil people with cute puppies on their blouses. When I woke up again, I was wisked away by another lab coat and delivered back to Lard Butt, Caring, and Maggie. They stopped at a little store inside the laboratory and bought some more cat litter, made out of used newspapers. USED NEWSPAPERS!!!! LIKE A DOG.

They brought me home and treated me like royalty... with the exception of the newspaper litter, of course. Then El Robbo Roundo decided he would try and jam something down my throat. It was round and yellow. A tracking device of some sort, no doubt. I tried to resist, but he kept opening my mouth and thrusting it in. I bit him a few times, but he just laughed. Finally I submitted and swallowed the darned thing. About 8 hours later, he repeated the process. These people must be using some sort of inferior technology if their tracking devices only lasted eight hours.

Otherwise, I actually thought I may have found a good home when I heard Caring and Bobba Fatt talking about how sweet I was. Then the bomb dropped. Caring said that she thought since I was a shelter cat, I wouldn't be very friendly. That old stereotype rearing its ugly head again. As though cats you get from the Humane Society have some lock on pleasant personality. I made a note to myself to hack up a hairball on her late at night. Revenge will be mine.

Now it's back to nursing my wounds. Plus I have to pee. It's just wonderful having to do your business on a plastic container full of New York Times rejects.