My name is Cal and I’m a cat. The large, bald one is my best friend. Her name is Michele and she’s a cat too. She’s much larger than me and bald, except for the very top of her head, which is adorned with long, yellow fur.
Like all great journeys, ours started with a box. But this was not just any kind of box, it was a Big, Empty Box. The best kind of box.
At first, I was excited that the large, bald one had finally started to appreciate the finer things in life (I had been trying to tell her about boxes for years now), but then she did something completely incomprehensible. She started putting our stuff into the Big, Empty Box. I was flabbergasted. Didn’t she know that boxes are for sitting in?!
The next day the situation worsened. Michele left for most of the afternoon and then returned with an entire barrage of Big, Empty Boxes. Under normal circumstances, this would have been a dream come true, except in this case, it was the exact opposite. The systematic desecration of the Big, Empty Boxes ultimately proved to be my personal hell.
Each night she methodically filled each box. I frantically tried to stop her, but every time I would jump into one box she would simply start putting things into another one. There were so many boxes to save and in the end, I lost them all.
The next day things went from bad to worse. The large, bald one placed me in the closet with all of my stuff. I didn’t like being confined, but then the endless stream of loud noises began and I had to admit that I was happy to be in a small space. By mid-afternoon, the noises stopped and I was finally released. To my utter dismay, the apartment was empty.
I didn’t know it at the time, but in that cold, empty apartment, we were standing on the cusp of the adventure of a lifetime. Ever since that afternoon, we roam the land at will. We go where we want when we want, and experience life in a way that can only be done with no true attachments, except to each other.
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