Another installment of the Tempest Papers. Letters from Tempest the cat as she sails with part of the family on a sailboat through the Bahamas (and onward) to the other part of her family who is back home on land (namely her favorite human, Paris aka @loliboofae )
How are you? Good to hear. Glad you’re fine.
You want to know how I am?
Bloody fabulous. That little bitch Cinnamon (yes, she is a female dog and thus a literal bitch, but in this case, I’m using the profanity version of the word) nearly took my head off today. Don’t let the stupid look fool you, she is a psycho-terror beast. I’m afraid for my life.
I mean, was I right near her bowl of dog food? Perhaps. Was I teasing her just a little? Perhaps. STILL. I don’t think that’s a reason for her to remove my head from my body. Damn. She needs to get a sense of humor.
Anyway, I may have pissed myself a little over that. It was a bit scary for a second. I could have died, and then who would write to you? Nobody, that’s who.
I’m thinking that you should send me some body armour. Do they make that for cats? Nevertheless, I’m sure you could come up with something useful. If you could get started on that, it might make the difference between me living a nice long life and being turned into cat soup by this viscious little beast. (Oh, my. Cat soup sounds like catsup. Yikes. Do you think the condiment is made of cats? Surely not! Hmmm. I must research this.)
Here’s hoping that you’re doing better than me,
Queen of the pets, Overlord of the floating castle, Nearly writing to you from the ghost world because of that horrible dog your parents keep around for no discernable reason.
*** All photos are mine.