The Daily Tannenbaum The stigmata of the single life.*

I write to all with utmost gratitude for the readership’s empathy with the saga of my arrival one month ago. With great humility that I now want to regale you with the story of my most recent days.

I remained ensconced in my safe spot during the first two days in my new home. I would have remained there until the end of my life, but this edacious feline is no match for the temptation of Fancy Feast. Hesitantly, I ventured to the lower level of my parlous milieu to consume the meat presented to me by the Overly Affectionate Lady, who had vacated. Where she goes every day, I cannot say, but I do believe that some condition prevents her from being here in the daytime unless she is creating a cacophony of noise due to superfluous cleaning. Many of the humans that I have lived with have had this similar affliction. Do they not realize that the daytime should be spent canoodling with a supple pillow?

As you may surmise, my initial horror has subsided, although I was recently treated to a frightful night. A fortnight ago, the vociferous Big Hand Man arrived and clamored about the house with tools. I fled to my usual hiding spot, upstairs, beneath the bed. Doors were opened and closed; wood brought inside. I remained steadfast in my spot, glad to not be the cynosure of their affections, left alone with my thoughts.

As the night progressed, my air suddenly became smoky and breathing became complicated. Voices inside were raised. Doors and windows were opened despite the frigid air outside. I heard stomping coming up the stairs. I was extricated from my safety spot cum deathtrap by the Overly Affectionate Lady. I do not understand her language, so I surmise that her words “smoke,” “flu,” “not opened,” and “carbon dioxide” connect to me subsequently being enclosed in the downstairs bathroom, the room of so much pain, suffering, and bathing. I found a spot of safety betwixt the large hot water heating machine and the wall, and the clamoring within the home subsided.

Moments later my fearful trance was broken by two unfamiliar man-voices within the bungalow. Simultaneously, my new safety spot commenced to be too hot to be comfortable. Escape meant transversing through the room where the unfamiliar men resided. I contemplated the quandary of withstanding the malaise of the heat versus my terror of being seen by the guests, but I was too uncomfortable to linger. Stealthily as possible, I poked my head over the threshold. I needed only to clamber behind the boisterous group and scurry next to the fireplace, alight with smoldering fury, and get to the stairway leading to my sanctum. However, a creaking floorboard ratted me out, and the Overly Affectionate Lady saw me. I was caught, displayed me for the others like a gauche show cat, and carried upstairs, where I remained, unmolested, for the remainder of the evening.

I know what you are opinion, that I should forever withhold purrs and affections from this lady. However, I get spoony when I think of her. She gives me food, and pettings and I cannot help but reciprocate. My devotion is renewed daily as the dawn breaks on the far off sky. I fawn over her by kneading her tresses against the pillow and regaling her with my aubade. This largess leads to reciprocations as oft as it does to violence, but I have her rapt attention the moment she gains consciousness. There are mornings that I am presented with food before Overly Affectionate Lady returns to her repose to intentionally avoid the sunrise. I do not understand these creatures and their doings. Sadly, it is my situation in life to be subjugated to their will, and what is a helpless feline to do?