Yesterday, the rest of the family brought home a new cat. Disaster. He's a decent guy, but given half the chance he will chase and then savagely throw me about while feasting on my tiny pea-sized brain. His name is Merlin, and he poses such a threat that my cage has to be surrounding with mugs so that he can't get to me. That's the thing with cats, they don't know how good they have it. There's no one in their house who will try and rip them to pieces with their teeth and nom on their intestines. There's no one in their house to jump up unexpected, and glare at you through the bars of your cage.
So yeah, there's now a brand new force which lives with the intention to end my existence. Great. If you don't hear from me for a while, blame this guy, selfish ginger.
Look at him. Plotting ways to end my life. We might be friends though, if he stops trying to kill me, which let's face it, is the basis of most of my friendships.
