…somewhere in the jungle of Thailand…

Up in that tree, draped in vines, dangling off the side of a cliff I could not have felt more alone. Giant bats were swooping over my head, and smaller ones were fliting erratically inside the jungle like dry leaves in a dust storm. I shudder.” In the distance, I can still hear Andrew and Leslie calling me. “Kitty! Please! Please come back! Kitty! Please!” Over and over again.

I’m sad about my collar, but more than that, I’m mad. This is their fault, not mine. I fume. I don’t know if this is going to work out for me, Bess. Seriously. They always seem to think they know best. They pick me up and put me places all the time. It’s enraging. It’s degrading. I’ve been on my own the past two years or more - since I was a baby! I don’t need them. I chose them, but it was supposed to be on my terms, not theirs. What would you do? I didn’t want to go an an adventure today. I wanted a nap. I swear, if they don’t stop picking me up, I’m going to pluck one of their eyeballs out with my toe claw and eat it for a midnight snack.

I snuff, lay down on my belly, fold my front paws over each other and rest my chin while my eyebrow whiskers twitch with irritation. Let them suffer! I think, and stay silent.

An hour passes. They are still calling me. The sun has gone down, now. A beam of a flashlight bounces against one side of the island, then the boulders of the other. Let them hunt! They couldn’t climb these vines if they wanted to, those big, useless, floppy feet. They need me, I don’t need them. The sadness in their voices almost moves me to respond a couple of times, but then a wave of anger and homesickness would rush over me and my voice would catch in my throat. Until...

I realize I haven’t heard from them for a while. The flashlight beam is gone. And all I hear is the occasional rustling of some unknown animal in the jungle tangle below me. Where am I, anyway? I start to wonder. It’s a lot like home, but I don’t think this is Malaysia. For one, I heard no call to prayer around sun down. What lives in this jungle? Are there wild boars? I am afraid of wild boars. Definitely spitting vipers. Birds of prey...

Did they leave me? Would they have left me here? Fear, sadness, homesickness, they all overtake me at once, and I can’t seem to find my voice. So quietly, I let out a small “Mrawoo?”

Nothing.

A little louder now, but just barely. “Mrrawwoo?”

This time, I hear the sound of sand shifting on the beach. Someone moving, maybe leaning forward to listen closer? “Mrrrawooo?”

“Kitty? Is that you? Meow?” It’s Leslie, from far down on the beach. I wait. “Kitty, meow? Kitty, meow?” She falls silent and waits.

“Mrrawwooo?”

“Yes! Kitty! I hear you. Andrew has gone to get you some snacks! Are you hungry? Come back now, please? We are so sorry! We will never do this again. We love you, please come back.”

All the sadness I have wells up from the bottom of my haunches, and I cry a long, soft “Mawwwrrrooooooooooooo.”

“Oh, Kitty! You’re breaking my heart. Just come back and we’ll make it up to you.”

You know what? No. I’m still mad. “MOW!” I yell. “MOW! MOW! MOW! MO-MOW-MO-! MOW!” I continue my diatribe for a while, then fall silent and wait.

“I know, Kitty, I know. Really, I do. And really, I am so sorry. Please come back, and we’ll make it up to you.”

At this point, I took a deep breath and asked myself: what would my old friend Bess-Bess do? She always knows how to handle these situations. Remember when they were trying to give you antibiotics because you peed in Leslie’s shoe? Remember how I looked them right in the eye and peed on Leslie’s yoga mat and blanket? Just a little. Just enough to say: “Enough is enough, now.” This is the kind of compulsory negotiation tactic I was searching for deep in the thick jungle brush - the cicadas screaming their high pitched anthem in my ears. I dig my haunches in. I’m not coming back until they agree to all my terms.

“MOW.” I state, firmly enough to convey my conviction. Translation: Listen once, now.

“MOW.

MOW.

MOW.

MOW.

MOW.

MOW.

MOW.”

Andrew return to the beach. Leslie reports my status, “I think she is making hostage release demands!” I hear Andrew far below me shaking a bag of kibble. “You want some crunchies Kitty? I have your crunchies!”

Oh for god sake. Bess, do you think I’m that easily bribed? He doesn’t understand me at all. “GRRROOOWWWWWoooo.” Translation: I’ll hunt you and eat you as my food if I want. Concede to my demands, human. “MOW. MOW. MOW. MOW.

Andrew and Leslie beg, plead, cajole, apologize... “anything you want, Kitty.”

“Mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow.”

I list off every thing I can think of that I will no longer tolerate. “An empty food bowl, the dragon, the gargoyle, the ability to sleep sideways on the bed, being picked up and held like a baby, and anything involving swimming...” I am taking full advantage of negotiating every term I have ever wished for. “A continuously dusted sleeping shelf. Morning wake up time of 5:30 a.m., no later....

“Mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow, mow.”

While I wait for them to make their next move, I fall ominously silent. I begin the long slow climb down toward them, channeling our prey stalking ancestors, to move so silently they can never be quite sure that I am moving closer to them. After a while, I stop and make more demands. “You will only pet me when I so request. You will never step on my tail, ever again, even if it IS accidentally. You will let me explore the nooks and crannies of the bathroom. And, you will never, ever put me anywhere ever again. I go wherever I want, on my own terms.”

“MOW.”

There. That seems about it.

By the time I finish my list, I am just out of arms reach.

And what do they do but try to approach me?!

What do they not understand about “on my own terms.”

I scamper deeper into the jungle again, sit on the root of a tree and stare back at them. My eyes glowing in the reflection of their still-searching flashlight.

“I said ON MY OWN TERMS! Take it or leave it.” Mow.

They say “Yes, yes, Kitty, anything you want.”

They seem to concede, but I don't believe this is set in stone yet. I want assurances. It’s already been several hours now, but this is not the time to back down. This is a deal breaker.

I creep closer.

Andrew puts sneaks forward and sets the crate closer to me.

I back away.

Then closer.

Then away again.

This process takes HOURS, and to my surprise, eventually they stop approaching me all together and they just wait. I am pleased. I decide it’s time to really test them. I agree to bump my face on Andrew’s hand, just once. Will he try to grab me? I move in slowly, rub my face on his knuckles, then dart back into the forest.

“Ohhhh, her collar is gone.” Leslie said, sadly. And I hang my head. I’m sad, too. "Oh, Kitty! Is that why you are sad? We can get you a new one, Kitty. Don’t worry, just come back. I don’t care, I just want you to come back.”

“Come on, Kitty! I have duck treats!" Andrew shakes the duck treat bag at me again. He throws one at me! This annoys me. I move further away.

“MOW. MOW-MOW!” Don’t throw things at me!

“Duck treats! you like duck treats!” I scowl at him for another twenty minutes until my belly growls and I sigh. We all skipped dinner before we went on this “adventure”, and it’s 11:00 p.m. now. I’m pretty hungry. I relent and follow Andrew’s trail of duck treats into the crate. They close the gate on me, and I lay down.

“No more adventure for you, Little Cat.” Leslie says as we paddle back under moonlight.