Madness, It's Madness I tell You

I have been feeling quite at home here lately. Winnie and Mickey are now letting me hang out with them. This is big...she's in charge of all that goes on, so now I get to know what's up all the time. They even wave to me from the windows when I'm outside, that's nice don't ya think?

Winnie is so little but sheesh, she's tough on her rules. I've gotten them to talk a bit about him...you know Bubba. Winnie knew him the longest so her insight may help me. It seems his greatness even saved Mickey's life along the way. Great, more heroics. Bubba made it his life's work to keep the cats safe. I didn't make that up, Winnie told me that. So, I guess that's a clue as to my job here, huh? Winnie said Bubba would sleep on the bed with Mom everyday as soon as Dad got up, he'd be right there. OK, I will never get on the bed now. He also loved the couches, so...off limits. I will make my way here with them, I will not do as He did. Anyhow, one of the days we were sitting chatting was interrupted by the sound of a large truck. What in the world is this about? This very large truck pulling into my driveway? Well, it was going to get stranger, that's for sure! The cats and Celie didn't seem surprised by this at all, weird. Then I watched and Dad was the driver. Now Dad is not a trucker ok? What gives? He opened the back of this massive truck and it was loaded, to the tippy top, with stuff. All I could see were boxes and bags and buckets...of stuff. What the heck. He spent hours unloading all this stuff into the garage.

Then it got even weirder...he started to load up the truck with the stuff in the house. Oh my goodness. Is this some strange exercise routine or what? I asked George, Celie, Winnie and
Mickey and they just laughed and said ignore it or you'll go insane. Ignore this? How can I ignore this? Maybe it's a fake Dad who's stealing from us. But then, if he was stealing, why did he bring all these boxes and buckets to us? I just started to get comfy here and now my world is upside down. Nice. Real nice Daddy-O. All of a sudden I'm watching blankets and pillows and rugs on the floor leaving the house. All the pictures are gone too, so are the cookie jars and wait, Lamps too. This really can't be good but Mom isn't stopping him. She seems to be helping. How can this be? I like our stuff. Things just keep getting worse and worse. The plates, the glasses, all the kitchen nik naks...gone. There's even been removal of all the bathroom items. What are they doing? Meantime, Celie and the cats nap on. Are they aware that our world as we know it is leaving? How can they nap? I am having (another) anxiety attack. Great, just great. I need to do something, but what? Do I call the police or a doctor for these two? The madness goes on for eternity. Dad fills this huge truck, drives off. A few hours later he's back...with MORE of this stuff of his. Where is he getting it all anyhow? None of it can fit in the house, of this I am sure.

By now with my nerves shattered, I too am ready to nap. More pass out, but let's call it a nap, ok? It may all be a bad dream, I 'll get up and things will be back to normal. Two hours later I wake up and am alone in the family room. I can hear noise in the living room so wander there.

OK..Now I'm sure they need a doctor. There are trees in the house. Trees do not belong in houses. Trees. The one blocking my lovely view of the street is huge. It's bigger than trees outside for goodness sake. Dad seems quite involved with this tree while Mom is dealing with a tree by the fireplace. What in the world has happened to these two? There are trees, trees, trees.

I wish I knew how to use a phone, I know the commercials say dial 911, but I don't have a clue how to do that. Trees. Madness, madness I tell you.