Four days ago Mommy and Daddy left the house with a purple cat carrier. When they returned, they carried it upstairs, where Fuzzface lives (that’s the cat, Fuzzface.) The carrier looked heavy, the way Daddy held it. Ever since then, they’ve kept the door up there closed. There are strange noises coming from there. I think I caught a whiff of something new through the crack in the door.

I don’t know exactly what was in the carrier, but I suspect the worst.

I’ve been tagged with a “meme.” (That’s what people do when they want to know more about me-me.)

1. Mommy named me Lily. Daddy calls me Scruffybutt because I was the only bow-legged, snaggle-toothed scruffy-butted rugrat the SPCA had left. Mommy and Daddy are just lucky that way.

2. Once, Mommy caught me sitting on Harriett. (Mommy calls her laptop “Harriett.” No one knows why.) I do this whenever I can, just to remind Harriett that Mommy’s lap is MY rightful spot.

3. Daddy says I’m “cosmetically challenged.” That means you’d need a lot of cosmetics to compete with me.

4. Daddy also says I’m a Holy Terrier because I keep the feral cats away. Duh, it’s my job.

5. I’m not allowed to chase the stupid cat that lives with us. At least, not while Daddy or Mommy is looking. Heh.

6. Fred, the basset from across the street, has a crush on me. I ignore him.

7. I have to take Mommy walkies every day because she needs the exercise.

8. I surf the ‘net when we go walkies by keeping my nose to the ground. If Mommy did that, she wouldn’t need stupid Harriett.