Chapter 3

Chapter 3

THE ADOPTION

Peek-a- boo was awakened by the sound of voices and someone opening the cage door. She quickly backed into a corner, and started hissing and swatting at the lady that was coming to get her. “I don’t know if this one will ever be able to be adopted. She seems wild and too afraid of people for a family to take her home,” the lady said. “We’ll, just hafta’ see how she does after we spay her and give her shots.”
The lady quickly and carefully wrapped Peek tightly in a towel, so she wouldn’t be bitten. Peek-a-boo noticed the lady wasn’t hurting her, and the lady’s voice was very soft. After everything she had been through, this gentleness was both new and welcome. Also, Peek-a-boo had never been held before. It was a different kind of experience. It felt strange, awkward and yet good to her, even though she was afraid. She was carried into a room that was very cold and when she awoke, she was back in her cage. She noticed tiny little stitches just below her belly. She licked and licked at the stitches.
The lady came back and softly spoke to her. “Hello there kitty cat, how are you feeling today?” She opened the cage and tried petting Peek-a-boo’s head and ears, but Peek jerked her head away. Then the lady gently moved her to check the stitches. Peek hissed at the lady, but not very convincingly. She was still much too weak to fight. “Well now, it looks like everything is healing nicely, so I am going to give you something to eat.” Peek gratefully accepted the soft food and ate slowly, still cautious and drowsy.
Over time the stitches dissolved and she felt much better. The lady came regularly, petted Peek-a-boo, held her and often changed her litter box. Peek, who had always gone to the bathroom out in the field, learned that the litter box was her new bathroom. The lady also came twice a day to give Peek fresh food and water, all the while speaking to her in a quiet voice. “Well it seems you’re not such a tough gal after all. Maybe we will be able to adopt you out to a nice family. You’re a beautiful lady, you know that don’t you?” Much to Peek-a-boo’s surprise, she began to look forward to the lady’s visits.
One day when the lady was holding Peek-a-boo, something strange started to happen. A place deep down in her throat started to vibrate very fast. The more the lady petted her, the faster the vibration went. She was purring. PPPPPUURRRRRRRRRRRR PPPPUURRRRRRRRRR, came from her throat. The purr was strong and loud. It surprised both Peek-a-boo and the lady. “Wow, you can purr after all. I think you are almost ready for people to see you now, and maybe we will even be able to adopt you out to a nice family.”
In the next few weeks, lots of people came and went, peering into Peek’s cage, and reading the note the pound had written about her. Mixed breed Persian cat with no name, the note said. Purrs when you scratch her ears and belly- Age: about five years old…Weight: seventeen pounds; gets along with other cats. Many people looked at Peek, but usually she was too big, too old, not a kitten, or not friendly enough for most people. Peek wasn’t mean anymore, she didn’t hiss or spit, that just wasn’t her nature, but she was shy and cautious. She remembered that some humans were not very kind.
One day a man, woman and two boys came to the pound looking for a large cat that wasn’t a kitten, and could get along with the older cat they already had at home. They wanted a cat that needed lots of love and attention. The pound lady quickly thought about Peek-a-boo, and took the family to see her. The man looked at lots of other cats, but the lady instantly loved Peek-a-boo. She put her finger through the wires of the cage and let Peek smell her finger. Peek rubbed her head and ears against the lady’s finger. The cat seemed friendly enough. So the lady asked to see Peek-a-boo the large room. To see how friendly she was. They waited and waited and finally the pound lady came in holding Peek-a-boo. She put her on the floor and let her walk around. Peek smelled everything. She smelled the floor, she smelled the

walls, she smelled the feet of the chairs, and she cautiously smelled the hands of the people. The man petted Peek and spoke to her in a sweet, loving tone. “Hello pretty girl. You are a big beauty aren’t you? Would you like to come home with us?” Peek didn’t know why, but she instantly liked and trusted this man. Maybe it was the soft sing-song tone of his voice. She slowly flopped down on her back for the man to scratch her belly. It felt so good and he was so gentle, that she started to purr very loudly. One by one, the lady and two boys petted her and scratched her belly. “What do you think?” the man said, “I really like this one.” The boys and lady quickly agreed, so they signed the papers, paid the money for the care of the cat, and soon Peek-a-boo was on her way to her new home and a new adventure.

Chapter 2

PEEK-A-BOO

Peek-a-boo’s life was the opposite of Cheyenne’s. It was harsh and she was unloved. She was born in a field, near a barn by an old farmhouse. Her parents were wild feral cats that no one ever owned. Peek had many brothers and sisters, but she was the largest kitten of her family. She knew her momma, but not her dad, who ran away after she was born.
Peek’s fur was shaggy and often unkempt as a kitten. It was long in some places and scruffy short in others, and her coat had lots of different colors. It was black and orange and brown and white, and her little paws looked as if she were wearing white socks.
Because she was a wild cat, Peek had no loving or cuddling from people. In fact, she had no contact with people at all. She neither feared humans nor liked them. She simple had no opinion.
As Peek got a bit older, she became more curious about the farmhouse where humans lived, and wandered close to the house. The farmer’s wife often swatted at her with the broom yelling “shoo away kitty, I don’t want any wild cats ‘round here.” Still, sometimes Peek’s curiosity would get the best of her.
One day when the farmer’s wife accidentally left the front door open, Peek-a-boo (after carefully looking around) tiptoed on her little paws into the house. The farmer’s wife spotted Peek-a-boo and let out a shriek. “What are you doin’ in my house? Get out you mangy cat, get out!” Grabbing her broom, she chased the little kitten all around the house, yelling as she ran. “Shoo git, shoo shoo, git outta here,” she screamed.
Peek-a- boo was terrified, her fur puffed straight out, making her look like a little round fur ball with a head, two feet and tail attached. Suddenly, she looked around and spotted the front door still open. Just as she headed through the door it closed with a loud BANG, catching the tip of her tail inside the door. “Yaow Yaow Yaow it hurts,” screamed Peek. She ran as fast as she could back into the field, screeching all the while. “Meow, meow meow,” she cried all the way back to the barn.
All alone, since her mama, brothers and sister had run away, there was no one to comfort her. So she limped to her bed in the hay and lay down quietly, wanting to forget the whole ordeal. Poor Peek mewed softly, licking the tip of her tail over and over again trying to help it heal. In time, Peek-a-boo’s tail did heal, but the very tip of her tail was now crooked. It wasn’t something you could see easily. But she knew it was there, and it reminded her how dangerous people could be. Peek-a-boo never approached the house again.
As Peek got older, she became a very good hunter. She could catch the fastest field mouse and the largest barn rat even in the snowy cold of winter. She grew very big, with long legs, and a bushy tail. She was quite beautiful. Her fur was long and shiny and her coat was full and lovely. Not ever having seen herself in a mirror, Peek had no idea how magnificent she had grown. Her black button nose stuck way out and her big round eyes were copper with little green and gold flecks in them. She had very long whiskers and a slash of orange fur that ran diagonally from her forehead, across her nose to her chin, making her look like a very fierce cat.
Life became difficult as she got older. She wasn’t often happy, and since she wasn’t happy, she didn’t purr. Winters were the hardest time of the year. When it was snowy and cold, she would have to stay curled up in the hay for warmth, and the snow made it harder to scout for food, even though she was such a good hunter. Mostly life was lonely.
One afternoon in the beginning of the spring thaw, while walking in the field, the farmer’s wife saw Peek-a- boo stalking a field mouse. She went home and waited for her husband to come in from working in the back fields. “Avery, I saw the biggest most beautiful cat I’ve even seen.” She didn’t realize Peek was the same cat she shooed out of the house when it was a kitten.
“Well,” said the farmer’s wife, “maybe we oughta trap her, and bring her here to be a mouser for the house.” She’d seen Peek stalk and catch mice, so she knew she would do a good job. “I’ll never have to worry about having mice again, with that cat living here.”
“Well just as long as ya know that there cat is a wild cat, good for mousin’ but not the friendly type,” said the farmer. They plotted and planned how they would catch this big beautiful cat. “I know just how to catch her too,” said the farmer.
The next day, the farmer went out into the field closest to the house, where his wife had seen Peek-a-boo hunting the day before. He placed a wooden crate on its side with a stick holding the crate up, and a long, long, long string attached to the stick. Inside the crate he put a small bowl of milk, and some cooked hamburger that was left from last night’s dinner. He then took the string and walked far, far away so that Peek-a-boo could neither see nor smell him. Cats have very good eyesight, and can smell and see things people cannot.
The farmer squatted way down flat on his belly in the field and waited. He waited and waited and waited, and just when he was about to give up waiting, he spotted a cat that looked like the one his wife had described, creeping toward the box. Peek’s curiosity about the smells coming from the box, and her hunger drove her closer and closer to it.
Cats are very curious creatures. The hamburger and milk were new smells and they smelled wonderful. “Wow, what is that smell?” thought Peek. She couldn’t resist any longer, she hunched down very low to the ground, and slowly crept toward the box. Peek looked left and she looked right. She looked in front and she looked behind. As far as Peek could see, there was no one near the box.
She approached the hamburger and milk and began to eat and drink. “Yum Yum this is so good!” she growled as she ate. Because it tasted so wonderful, she wasn’t as cautious as she should have been. BANG!!! The crate came down on her with a loud crash.
Peek-a-boo panicked. “MEOW, YAW, MEOW,” she screamed the loudest she could. She banged against the crate with her body. She pushed at the sides with all her might, and pushed at the top with her head. She scratched and scratched the wooden crate with her claws, but nothing she did could help her escape from the box. “Let me out! LET ME OUT OF HERE, HELLO, HELLO, CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME,” she screamed. Over and over she yelled and pushed and clawed and screamed, but no one heard her except the farmer. No one helped her.
Eventually, Peek-a-boo grew very weary. In fact, she was so tired from all the banging, scratching and screaming that all she could do was lie down and rest. The farmer knew that the wild cat would struggle to get out of the box, so he didn’t go near the box for a very long time. He had dressed in heavy gloves and a thick coat, so that she couldn’t scratch him when he took her out from under the box.
Finally, the farmer (who carried a thick canvas bag with small holes in it) carefully lifted the lid just a bit, and grabbed Peek-a-boo around the neck. She tried to struggle and scratch him, but his gloves were too thick, and she was very tired. Before she knew what was happening, she was in the canvas bag with the top tied tightly with rope. “Meow, meow, meow,” screeched Peek-a-boo, trying to wiggle out of the bag, but it was closed too tightly even for her claws.
When the farmer got home that night he put the bag on the floor. “This cat is full of spit and vinegar,” he said to his wife. “Be careful when I open this here bag, cause she’s gonna come out hissin’, spittin, n’ fightin’.” Having said that, he carefully opened the top of the canvas bag and jumped back.
Peek-a-boo leaped out of the bag. Her fur was all puffed up and standing straight out. Her eyes were wild, and she hissed and swatted at the farmer and his wife, ran around the house, up the steps and hid under the first bed she could find. She then stuffed herself tightly into a ball in a corner under a bed and waited.
“Put a saucer of milk down for the cat, and leave the cat alone,” he said. “She’ll come out when she’s hungry enough. There are plenty of mice ‘round here for her to catch for her supper.”
The farmer and his wife ate their dinner, watched some television and went to bed. The next few days were very quiet, Peek would hide under the bed all during the day. When it was quiet at night, and the people had gone to sleep, she would come out, explore the house, drink the milk left for her and catch a mouse for her dinner.
This became Peek-a-boo’s life for the next few years.
One day, the farmer’s wife decided she wanted a pet. “Avery, I want a pet cat. You’re gone all day, and I am lonely. I know that a wild cat can never be a pet. I am going to drive to the city, to the pound and see if I can adopt a cat.” She adopted a big old black male cat, named Francis.
Francis was an incredibly lazy cat, and not used to going outside at all. He had been the companion of an elderly lady, who spoiled him with treats, and let him do whatever he wanted. When the lady died, her family didn’t want Francis, so they took him to the pound to be adopted. He had never been with other cats, and was used to having the whole house to himself, but the pound didn’t know that. His schedule was to sleep during the day and roam around the house at night, although that information was also not on his adoption papers.
The farmer’s wife, not knowing Francis’s history, brought him home that day. He sat on her lap during their t.v. time, purring while she petted him, and slept there until the farmer and his wife went to bed. Then Francis decided to explore the house. He was just trotting around the corner from the living room to the kitchen, when he met up with Peek-a-boo, who was out looking for mice. “Who are you? What are you doing in my house? Get out,” he caterwauled. He had a very deep, loud voice and huge black piercing eyes.
Peek wasn’t used to seeing other cats, let alone one as big as Francis. “Excuse me,” she squeaked very politely, “but I live here.” “Not if I can help it,” growled the big black cat.
With that, Francis started to chase Peek around the house, swatting at her with his long dangerous claws. They ran around and fought and growled, making a terrible noise. All of a sudden Peek got tangled up in a bunch of electric cords, including the cord to a very expensive family heirloom lamp. Before she knew what was happening, Francis, with an evil glint in his eyes, and a smirk on his lips, pushed over the lamp. It fell to the floor with a loud CRASH.
“That will teach you. I’m gonna tell the farmer you broke the lamp.” Then Francis ran out of the room, up the steps, and into the bedroom where the farmer and his wife had been sleeping. The farmer jumped out of bed from the noise. “Meow, meow, wake up and see what that nasty cat downstairs has done,” Francis tattled to the farmer.
When the farmer got downstairs, Peek was still struggling to get out of the cords, and very, very afraid. The farmer was sure that Peek-a-boo had broken the lamp, and yelled at her, all the while trying to untangle the cords. “Drat cat, stay still darn you…gull darn cat, I should have known better than to let you into my house. You’re nothin’ but trouble!”
As he touched Peek, she panicked, scratched his arm and bit his hand. She didn’t mean to hurt him, but she was frightened. When she got loose, she ran as fast as she could up the steps and under the bed in the guest room. She could hear the farmer still yelling. “I’m gonna kill that gull-dern cat when I get a hold of her!” Peek shook with fear. She knew she was in trouble, she just didn’t understand what was happening or why.
The next day the farmer put on his heavy coat and gloves, picked up the canvas bag, marched into the guestroom and closed the door. He moved the bed to get Peek out from under it. There was no other place to hide. “You’re goin’ to the pound, you dang cat, I don’t want any cat ‘round here that’s gonna hurt nobody.” He chased Peek round and round the room until he caught her. The next thing she knew, she was in the bag and being taken away.
When the bag was opened again, her surroundings were completely different. Here was a cold steel cage with not much in it except a bowl of water, a box with some gravel-like stuff in it, and a small blanket to lie on. She was afraid of people now, hid in the corner of the cage and hissed when anyone came near. When she was finally left alone, she fell asleep.

Chapter 1 Cheyenne

ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WERE TWO KITTENS

PEEK-A BOO & THE PRINCESS CHEYENNE




Chapter 1

CHEYENNE

Even at birth Cheyenne was the most beautiful kitten ever seen. She had long silky fur that was pure white, and her eyes, the color of a copper pot, seemed almost too big for her face. No one had ever seen eyes that big on a kitten, and everyone who saw her instantly fell in love with her. Cheyenne’s nose was very small and flat against her face, which didn’t allow her to smell very well. People could hear her smelling things by the funny sound she made with her nose. “SSSSSnnnnffff SSSSSnnnnffff” she would sniff loudly. Everyone who heard her would say, “That is the cutest way for a kitten to smell”, and then they’d laugh.
Her mother and father were famous Persian cats, who traveled all around the world winning lots of prizes in cat shows. It was expected that the little kitten would follow in her parents’ foot steps.
“You are the most beautiful kitten I have ever seen,” said Mrs. Andrews, “and I’ll win lots of prizes with you.” Mrs. Andrews was a cat breeder, and she owned Cheyenne, and Cheyenne’s mother and father. “I know I will win,” thought Cheyenne. “That is why I get bathed with perfumes, have beautiful bows in my fur, and even have a collar with fancy stones on it. I am so beautiful.”

Unfortunately, as Cheyenne started to get older, the little princess had a slight problem. Cheyenne’s tear ducts (where tears come out) didn’t close properly. She always looked as if she were crying. It didn’t hurt her at all, but she had big brown streaks under her eyes. Her mommy and daddy cat loved her even with her dark streaks, and would lick her face constantly to clean her eyes.

“What are we going to do now? I have spent a great deal of time and money grooming Cheyenne to be the best in the show. We can’t show her at all, and the vet says her eye problem will never go away,” said Mrs. Andrews as she sat at the table and crying.
After a few minutes, she stopped crying, blew her nose, stood up and said, “Come on Jim, you know we can’t afford to keep her anymore. I was talking to Mrs. Smith down the street. I know their boys would love to have a kitten.”
“All right, all right, but I am really disappointed. I thought she was going to be a champion,” said Mr. Andrews. So Mrs. Andrews packed all of the kitten's toys, her favorite collar, shampoos and conditioners and took the beautiful kitten to the Smith's home. Cheyenne’s real mother and father understood what was happening and were sad to see her go, but little Cheyenne was all excited. This was going to be a new adventure and she couldn’t wait.

The first year of her life, Cheyenne’s little paws barely touched the ground. The Smith boys carried her like a baby almost everywhere. “She is sooooo cute, and fluffy and loveable, I think she’s a princess” said the youngest son. He said that so many times that the name stuck to her, and she became the Princess Cheyenne.
“I am the most beautiful, most loved kitty in the whole wide world,” Cheyenne thought as she looked in the mirror, licking her paws and cleaning her eyes.
“I think I’ll let everyone know how happy I am, purrrrrr purrrrrr purrrr.” Since she was happy most of the time, she purred most of the time. Soon she began to talk. Of course not in people talk, she spoke in kitty talk. “Meow, meow, bbbbbrrrrra, bbbbrrrraaa,” she would say while rubbing her head against their legs. “Meow, meow, aren’t I cute? Pick me up and give me some loving,” she would say. Now Cheyenne could easily have jumped into her owners’ laps, but she had gotten lazy. “Why should I jump, when I know they will pick me up and cuddle me,” she said, and she was right. The more she talked, the more people responded to her, so the more she talked.
Her life was easy and simple. She ate, slept, played and was loved. For her it was the perfect life.

In the springtime Cheyenne ate her breakfast of warm milk and cooked chicken, and then she would go out into the garden to chase bugs and butterflies. The butterflies were her friends; the bugs, she would bat with her paw and occasionally try to eat. “Yuck, you taste terrible.” “Well then, don’t bug us,” yelled the bugs running away toward the grass. “You bugs think you’re so funny, I wasn’t going to hurt you anyway. I am tired, I think I’m going to stretch out and take a nap. I love the spring, it is my favorite time of the year,” said the princess to no one in particular and then she promptly fell asleep.

In the fall, she would follow the boys outside, jumping in and out of the piles of leaves they raked, scattering them everywhere until the boys would yell at her to get away. “Come on Cheyenne, you’re makin’ a big mess, and I just raked there” they shouted at her. She jumped and played until she was tired and then curled up in the window watching them work, eventually falling asleep. Her last thought was, “I think my favorite time of the year is the fall.”

Cheyenne’s family lived where it snowed in wintertime, and the snow was the same color as Cheyenne, which helped her disappear when she went outside. She was never cold because her coat was now long and thick. Chy Chy, (the nickname the boys gave her) would hide in the deep snow, wait for one of the boys to walk past, and then pounce on their boots. “Here Chy Chy, catch this.” The youngest son threw snowballs and Cheyenne would chase them.

“Boys, Chy Chy, time to get out of the snow,” yelled their mother. “You two go upstairs and change into dry clothes. Cheyenne come let me dry you off and I’ll give you a saucer of warm milk, and cooked chicken.” The big soft towel felt wonderful, and the warm chicken tasted great. You know she thought, “winter is my favorite time of the year.”

The only frustrating part of her whole life was bath time. Mrs. Smith would take Cheyenne to a lady called a cat groomer to be bathed and brushed. Cheyenne hated the water, mostly because of the way it made her look. She was a very vain kitty. When it was time for the family to take her to the groomer, Cheyenne would run and hide under the sofa. “No, no I don’t want to go!” She would meow and run from one room to the other, until someone caught her and placed her in the carrier.
All the way to the groomer she would complain loudly, “Pleeeezzzz don’t take me there…pleeeeezzzzzz,” she would cry over and over. You see, when Cheyenne was all wet, she looked more like a very large furry rat, than a beautiful Persian cat, and the princess hated it. “I’m not beautiful when I’m wet” she thought. “In fact, I am down right ugly.”
She would meow and cry and cry and meow, complaining all the while she was being bathed. Susan, the young groomer, seemed to understand her irritation. She would talk in a very gentle soothing voice while bathing her. “It’s okay Princess Chy Chy, you’re going to be absolutely beautiful when we’re finished, and you’ll get to choose which color bow you’ll wear this week.” The groomer always tied a brightly colored bow on Cheyenne’s fur, and sprayed her with a kind of kitty perfume that smelled wonderful.

In the end, Cheyenne would prance back and forth looking in the mirror. She was even more beautiful than before, her streaks under her eyes were temporarily gone, and her long white fur was silky and flowing. The Smiths would pick her up from the groomer and oooohhhh and aaahhhh, hugging and kissing her, making the trauma of bath time all but forgotten until the next time.
“See you in two weeks,” said Susan, scratching Cheyenne under the chin. “Meow, meow, not if I can help it,” said the little white Persian.

There were other pets in the Smith household, although if you asked Cheyenne’s opinion, she was the most important pet in the family. There was an old gray cat named Gray Girl, and a huge female dog named Trinket. Gray Girl liked Cheyenne from the moment the princess arrived as a kitten, and “mothered” her as best she could. The old gray cat had never had kittens of her own, and this gave her the chance to be a mama cat. Cheyenne liked old Gray Girl and often curled up with her to sleep. “Come here Princess, I want to clean your face before we go to bed,” said Gray Girl. “Yes Gray Girl, here I come.”

The big dog loved both cats and wanted to play with them constantly, but the old cat had no patience for the dog, and would skulk away grumbling to herself. “You are a dog! You are not supposed to like cats! Hisssss Hissssss, go away Trinket, I have no energy for your nonsense.”
“I’ll play with you,” said the Princess as she pounced on Trinket’s back from the dining room chair. They would play for hours until the older dog became tired and went off to the sofa to sleep. “No more,” she growled at the kitten, “I’m tired.” But before Trinket put her head down to sleep, her enormous tongue would lick the little princess’s face, and Cheyenne would go away, but not very far, and not for very long.

The three pets lived happily together for several years. Then all of a sudden life changed. Trinket grew very old. She couldn’t move around well anymore and stopped playing with Cheyenne.
“What’s the matter with you, Trinket, why don’t you run and play with me anymore?” “Cheyenne stop tapping me on my nose, I am tired,” said the old dog. “Come on Trinket, let’s play. I’ll jump on the chair and then jump on your back,” Cheyenne said jumping all around the dog. “No little one, not today. Maybe I’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Often Trinket would lie on the sofa for days at a time, and only get up to eat or go outside to the bathroom. On these days, Chy Chy would lie beside the big dog and try to cheer her up. “How are you today, Trinket? Do you feel any better? Do you feel like playing with me today? How come you never have any energy anymore? Maybe if I lick your face you will feel better.”
Cheyenne then climbed up on the sofa and licked the great dog’s face.

Then one day, Trinket didn’t move off the sofa at all, and the family knew Trinket had died.

Mr. Smith and the two boys buried Trinket in the backyard by the garden where they had all played together, while Mom, Cheyenne and Gray Girl stood close together and watched. It was a very, very sad day for everyone.
“I feel just awful. I miss Trinket. Can I sleep with you tonight Gray Girl?” said Cheyenne. “I miss Trinket too little one,” said the old grey cat snuggling with the little white princess as they fell asleep together.

Not to long after that, Gray Girl, who had grown quite old herself, passed away in her sleep, and the family buried her next to Trinket in the garden that they all loved. “I don’t have anyone to play with now, please play with me,” Cheyenne would say to the Smith boys, but the boys were getting a bit older, each having school work and after school activities, so they played with her less and less.
One particular day Mr. Smith came home from work very excited. “I got a promotion at work, and I’m making enough money so we can buy that house we liked a few miles from here.” Once they purchased the house everybody in the family but Cheyenne was excited and extremely busy.
“I don’t know what is going on around here, but I certainly don’t think I like it,” said the princess. There was much hustle and bustle as boxes were filled, and the family began packing up their things making ready for their move.

At first, it seemed fun to jump into the empty boxes. “Cheyenne get out of that box. I am trying to pack!” yelled the older son. "Hey, come look at the princess in the box. Isn't she cute?" said the youngest son.
“Has anyone seen Cheyenne?” said the mother, “I want to feed her and I can’t find her,” she said. “No mom we haven’t seen her all day,” yelled the boys.

Cheyenne thought she was playing, but the family was getting irritated with her constant hiding in the boxes as they tried to pack. So the little white Persian started to complain bitterly and loudly.
“I don’t like this change. Pay more attention to me!” she yelled. At nighttime she would roam from room to room and box to box yelling her dissatisfaction. “Hey, wake up everyone, pay attention to me, everyone, WAKE UP! I am lonely and bored,” she screamed with her loudest voice. The family would pick her up; pet her just to keep her quiet and happy. “Ah ha,” she purred loudly, “I am a Princess, I am beautiful, I am loved, and there is no one else around here to get all that attention and love, but me now.”
Finally after the chaos of the move, and everyone was more or less settling into their new home and new schools, the family focused much of their time and attention on Cheyenne. She became more spoiled and self-centered, and it remained that way until her eighth birthday.