The British One has spent the entire day putting things into boxes. He has removed all the pictures from the walls and has taken down the shelving. I followed him around demanding to know what is going on, but it was fruitless.
When Softie got home she also began putting things into boxes. All the stuff from the shelves went into boxes. I sat on the kitchen floor behind her, watching. I thought if I sat there looking regal and fluffy she would not be able to resist letting me in on the secret of the boxes.....and I was right!
She swooped me up into her arms and carried me around--which I adore--and told me all about a new house. She says it will be our new house. She said it has big windows and lots of nooks for me to explore.
But what if I don't want a new house? What is wrong with my house? I don't see as well as I used to--how will I find my way around someplace new? What if I can't sun myself on the deck anymore?!
It's all quite worrying to a little handsome lad such as myself.