Slowly the world settles. But I can’t move from my place under the bed. I am frozen with horror, heart pounding. The new stink of her fills the house, fills my nostrils. It’s like burning and black pepper. This ted is making me feel too much—who or what is she?

Below, the teds are talking like nothing’s wrong. I think they’re in the kitchen. I don’t want to listen to them, of course I don’t, but I can’t help hearing. This lady ted is going to live next door. Then she says something about putting a cat in a washing machine. Oh my LORD. She’s a gd psycho, like on the TV.

Ted’s voice takes on a strange note. It is—interest? Happiness? Awful, anyway. What if he asks her back? What if this starts happening all the time? The conversation seems to go on forever and I think, Wow he should just ask her to move in here, the way he’s going on. At long, long last their voices move into the hall again. He shows her out.

As the lady ted leaves, she says, “If you ever need help with anything,” and something about a broken arm that I don’t really understand.

Finally he closes the door behind her.

Wow. That was not right. Bad, bad, bad. The whining reaches a pitch which makes me feel like my head will explode. That was a violation of all the trust between us—what do we have if we don’t have TRUST? What if that lady ted is a murderer? What if she decides to come back? UNACCEPTABLE.

Ted comes upstairs and the bed creaks companionably above my head. Back to his nap, of course. He calls for me but I am completely upset and I run out of the bedroom. Obviously he has NO feelings because a few minutes later he is snoring again.

I pace the living room. The peepholes peer crazily at me, like eyes. Nothing feels safe. I knead the nice rug but even that can’t comfort me like usual. I am SO UPSET that even my eyes aren’t working properly. Everything looks the wrong color, the walls look green, the rug blue.

He has to be taught a lesson. Breaking stuff isn’t enough, this time.

I leap crazily from the counter, aiming for the refrigerator door. Eventually I hook the handle with a paw and it swings open. I give a little prrp of satisfaction. Cold billows out. In this weather it will soon melt all over the floor. The beer will get warm. The milk and meat will spoil. Good. Look at my bowl! Empty! Let him see how it feels.