Cats Aren’t Dogs, Dude
My Story of Being Abducted by Aliens
My name is Ellie, and I was born and raised at a cat rescue after my promiscuous mom and her also very pregnant daughter was brought there. That was 5 years ago. Yes, I said 5 years. What I lack in friendliness I obviously make up for in beauty.
I digress.
So, here I am minding my own business and some strangers (aliens) show up and want to chat with me and pet me and hold me and other stuff I am not so happy about. These aliens are obviously not the least bit acquainted with stranger danger or personal space and are literally all over me like a cat on an open can of tuna.
The next thing I know I’m put in a plastic prison box and being hauled off to a torture chamber (the vet) where more aliens are shaving my leg and sticking me with needles and looking in my mouth and putting a probe up into my — well, you know. Yikes! My rescue mom calls it a final vet check before a cat leaves the rescue. I call it super embarrassing and way far out of my comfort zone.
A few days later, the aliens I met before returned with their own plastic prison box and locked me in it. My rescue mom cries and so do I but for whatever reason she doesn’t stop the aliens from abducting me. She just stands there and watches them take me away in their space craft. I’m confused and scared and have no idea what’s going on or where the aliens are taking me, and just want to go back home.
Finally, the aliens stop their space craft, open up the plastic prison box and put me in the “mother ship”. I don’t want to come out of the plastic prison box because although I’m not thrilled about being in it, nothing bad happened to me while I was in there. One of the aliens tries to pull me out of the plastic prison box but I won’t come out, so he leaves me alone for like 5 whole minutes.
This particular alien, I have discerned, is a stalker — never leaving me alone. I can’t even go to the bathroom in private and he opens the door to the mother ship constantly and just stares at me. Whenever I come out of the prison box and hide elsewhere, he blocks that new hiding place so I can’t get back in it. I yell at him, “Get a life you freak!” but he doesn’t seem to care.
I am now totally stressed out, and the words my rescue mom said to the aliens before they abducted me come to mind, “You need to give Ellie at least a week, maybe 2, to be in her own room with her food, water and litter box so she can get comfortable before letting her out into the rest of the house. You need to be sure she’s eating and drinking and using the litter box well before you give her any more room to explore. She needs a safe space, so don’t take the carrier (plastic prison box) away from her. It has a blanket in it from home and that will be a comfort to her. Try to leave her alone as much as possible so she can process things in her own time”.
The aliens promised they would do these things to help me. But they did just the opposite instead. They were clearly concerned more about what they wanted than about what was best for me. If I could have talked to them, I would have said, “Cats aren’t dogs, dude. In fact, cats are quite the opposite of those furry people pleasing droolers. Except for a few freaky outcasts, cats just want to be left alone until they don’t”.
That night was the most frightening of my entire life. Stalker boy didn’t let up the whole night, peeping in at me when he (and I) should have been sleeping. His obvious stress was making me even more stressed if that was possible.
The next morning, I heard the 2 aliens talking about me and saying they wanted to take me back to my rescue mom because I was obviously stressed (no lie Sherlock) and not “working out”. Yay! All I could think of was, yes please do.
And just like that my way too stressful alien abduction was over and I was back home with my friends and rescue mom who promised to never let me be abducted by aliens again. The end.
Jackie Deems copyright 2022
