The wheelchair is scary. The wheels are huge and can run over my tail. It’s awful. I used to freely run through the house. Now I have to be careful when going downstairs. I need to steer clear of that horrible thing.
I’m punishing Julie for bringing it home. I refuse to get near her… even when she’s lying on the bed. Nope. The wheelchair is next to the bed so I’m not getting anywhere near it!
I’m the youngest cat of the house. I was only a few weeks old when Rich pulled me out from on top of one of the wheels of the motor home. Maybe there’s a relationship between hiding on top of a wheel and being scared of Julie’s wheeled chair?
I’m super teeny because I don’t like to eat. But that doesn’t stop me from climbing up every piece of furniture in the house, racing around and causing lots of damage. I don’t care. They think I’m cute so I get away with doing whatever I want.