I’m pleased to welcome Maurice, our 14-year-old cat, as a guest blogger on Imperfect Happiness. He’s written for our family’s holiday newsletter several times (in his popular column, “Kitty Korner”), but this is his first foray into blogging. Maurice is the most well-traveled cat I know, and I’m thrilled to have him share his insights.
Some cats might find the challenges of the road unbearable. While I admit that some of the discomforts grate on me, the lure of the open road is too strong to resist. After traveling from Ohio to North Carolina, North Carolina to California, California to Utah, and now Utah to somewhere called, “Massachusetts,” I’m comfortable calling myself a Road Cat.
The travel itself isn’t all that thrilling. The day generally begins with me and my brother being shoved into crates and stowed in the car behind the children. My brother isn’t as happy a traveler as I am, and he hides under the beds when our parents get the crates out. I suffer the indignity with aplomb knowing that they’re going to catch me and shove me in the crate anyway. I might as well do it as I try to do everything: with calm indifference.
Most of our daylight hours are spent in the car. The first couple days my stomach is upset from the motion and I upchuck in my carrier. My parents clean that out quickly, though. This time the oldest child, the girl, held me so I couldn’t explore the parking lot while my father cleaned the crate.
By the third day, though, I’ve got my car legs and spend most of my days sleeping. The non-feline contingent of the family says a lot about the scenery, but I can’t see anything from my crate except the back of the seat in front of me. Not that I want to anyway. I’ve ridden where I can see out before, and I feel rather unsettled watching everything go by so quickly out the windows.
The real fun begins when we arrive at the new hotels. There are so many things to smell and bedspreads on which to recline. Our bowls are filled promptly and we get to utilize a fresh litter box. There’s always a spot where we can bask in the remaining sunshine and stare out the windows while the rest of the family goes out to eat.
Tonight we’re in a place I gather from the human kitten is called, “New Ork.” His accent seems rather thick, so I’m not entirely certain his pronunciation is correct. It’s our favorite type of hotel room with the door to the outside instead of to a hallway. There’s a large window through which we can watch the large trucks go by on the freeway while we rest on the bed.
At home, we don’t sleep with any of the human family members. We have the run of the house while they’re closed into their little rooms. I feel sorry for them and bang on the doors to try to let them out of their rooms. By morning, they’ve figured out how to get out of the rooms, so it all works out. During our travels, we all get to sleep together. I love curling up on their legs and climbing on their heads during the night. I think they enjoy it, too.
We’ve been on the road for a week now, and I’m fairly certain this is our life for the foreseeable future. As a Road Cat, though, this is fine with me.
Below is some of the scenery that Maurice missed during our seven hours on the road today:
Imperfect Happiness 
That’s funny đŸ™‚
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