This gig is welcome news for Possum because he recently moved into his own studio apartment and that means expenses, of course. He also wants to get new carpeting and some art. Here he is, at home for an afternoon nap:
Bertie wonders why Possum's Apartment looks and smells
just like the carrier that takes him to the vet.
When Bertie had to go to the vet for a blood-pressure check while we were in Maine, our cat sitter carried him in Possum's Apartment. This was okay with Possum; he's easygoing and often lets Wendy crash at his place, too. It was less okay for Bertie. Our sitter walked him to the vet, first stopping at Bruegger's for a bagel. She reported that he began "screaming" there, attracting a lot of alarmed attention. She thought he was nervous, but we know that Bertie is a carb fiend. He was demanding bagels by the truckload in Cat language. Bertie had never been to a Bruegger's before and he knew it was a golden opportunity. He tried to make the most of it but, unfortunately, no one behind the counter understood Cat. He does have a thick accent.
After Bertie came home, the cat sitter zipped up the entrance to Possum's Apartment, not realizing that Possum can't manage zippers. He was locked out for a whole week. He was deeply relieved when we came home: not only had he missed me, he was anxious to get into his house to putter around and do this and that. He's in there now, trying to remember everything he knows about Korean art:
That's one of his favorite fake-fur mousies under his nose.
Possum and Wendy are enlightened and refuse toys made with real fur.