I should be deaf by now. The apartment building alarm was appallingly loud. My heart started pounding and the bravery I was forced to exhibit certainly deserves a medal.
Maddie quickly grabbed me when the dreadful fire alarm started screaming. They rushed me into the closet, grabbed my carry case, and shoved me inside-all before I could even meow one protest meow.
Maddie carried me down 5 flights of stairs as fast as they could and we gathered outside with the rest of the building people. By my count, there were 5 dogs and 3 cats near us. There was also one undetermined animal crouching in a clear, space-age-looking backpack. The people around us were nervous. The animals, including myself, were terrified. (Except for one dog-he thought this was some sort of game. Dogs are so dumb.)
The firefighters arrived with their piercing sirens, blinding bright lights, and loud roaring trucks. It was then that I started shaking. Maddie tried to calm me down by petting me and saying nice things to me.
When the firefighters finally left, Maddie and I took the elevator back to our apartment. It was crowded and smelled like dog. I let out the loudest protest meow that I could muster. All of the people in the elevator sympathetically said, "Awwwww......" This did not make me feel validated, however, in the feelings that I was attempting to express.
This has been a very stressful week for me. First, the vet lady gave me anesthesia, which caused a bit of behavior that was out of character for me. As a result, Lay-dee thinks I am now qualified for an episode of "Girl Cats Gone Wild". And certainly, this building fire alarm incident has caused me significant, additional stress. Surely I am now qualified for a few feline therapy sessions. At a minimum, I am certain that this week has burned up at least one, if not two of my 9 lives.
Signed, an exhausted and traumatized Pinky Ruth
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