Day 1 of my captivity.
The Hot Mess Princess has relegated me to a tight space inside the confines of her closet. At first, I thought I was alone in the dark but it appears my worst fears have been confirmed: I’m caught between a shoe bag and a cat bed. The cat spends most of her day curled up in a cozy ball, napping. It’s as if she’s taunting me with her luxurious lifestyle while I sit here squashed up against the shoe bag, begging for an end to this misery.
I miss the bright lights of the bathroom. I long to feel the cold ceramic tile on my little rubber feet. The smell of shoes and cat butt is everywhere. This space is so tight, dark, and a little sad. So many clothes I never see the Hot Mess Princess wear. As I look around, I realize that she is obsessed with handbags. I think it’s a strange obsession, but I must admit she has pretty damn good taste. There’s a pair of shoes nearby with extremely pointy toes. They look like weapons. I am afraid.
The cat is a gray tabby, I’m sure. She seems quite full of herself. I’ve seen her bully one of the giant dogs before. She is not to be messed with. Just when I think my existence can’t get any worse, she rouses from her nap and stretches. The closet air suddenly smells like butt, mixed with tuna, and I realize I’m inhaling a cat fart. Why, God, why?
The black cat was in here earlier, ever curious. She sniffed at me and recoiled as if she was disgusted in some way. Bitch. At least the orange cat doesn’t seem interested. He’s the laziest animal I’ve ever seen. He literally sleeps on the bed 23 hours a day. The large bowl of kibble in the corner seems to have some kind of drugging effect on him.
There are tons of clothes hanging all around me. Many of them are very large. The Hot Mess Princess got dressed in here this morning, performing a strange ritual: she would wrestle with a piece of clothing while she tried it on, then swore expletives under her breath and put it back before grabbing something else. This went on for about 10 minutes before she finally found something that took the scowl off her face. I wanted to ask her why she has those ugly pointy shoes, but I have no mouth…so I just sat here and prayed the farty cat would not return.
The Man scares me. I don’t see him much, but his favorite outfit seems to be just socks. He staggers in here in the morning and pulls his clothes off the hangers as if he’s sleep walking. The hangers are wire. What kind of barbaric caveman uses wire hangers? His clothes are hung haphazardly over my head – this is because he shoves through them with no patience, looking for shirts without BBQ stains or pen marks. He has no idea the Hot Mess Princess keeps a secret stash of stain free clothing for when she has to take him outside to meet people.
I hear barking. Someone must be approaching the house. Or across the street. Or down the street. The younger dog seems to be very territorial and protective. And brainless. He chewed up the tv remote yesterday and then left the evidence all over his dog bed. Then he spent a half an hour staring at one of the kitchen cabinets like it was a Monet. What an idiot. If I had the ability to act out in any way, I would be too smart to get caught. Sadly, the only thing I can do is occasionally show the Hot Mess Princess a number she doesn’t like…but I risk getting kicked against the bathtub if I do. I try not to provoke her – especially since she shoved me up against the Man’s table saw.
As my day draws to a close, I listen intently to the Hot Mess Princess and the Man talking nearby. They are happy about something called baseball. I hear the Man say something about 3 balls, but I’m sure I’ve only seen 2 when he’s walking around here in the mornings. Curious.
I wish I could find a way to escape this hell. If she keeps her word, the Hot Mess Princess will take me back home to my sunny bathroom on Sunday. It seems like an eternity. Aside from spending the night on the table saw, I can’t imagine a crueler existence than leaning here in the closet where no one sees me or uses me. No one, of course, but the gray tabby…who has just yacked up a hairball right in front of me.
I pray for the sweet release of death, but I know that will never come. My lithium battery may give me life, but it also guarantees many more years of hell for me. I know this is not my last “vacation” in the closet.