I'm not ready to call it home yet, but I'm starting to get pretty comfortable in this maxi-house. Jasper and I have only had to leave it once. We went to the vet, but even that wasn't too bad: no shots. I was really glad to get back to the maxi-house.
I've already mentioned the most obvious differences between a maxi-house and a mini-house: it's bigger; my own furniture is here; we don't go places all the time. There are also more doors.
In the mini-houses, there were usually a few doors: the one to the rest of the house, the one to the bathroom, the one to the place humans kept their clothes, and then one with a lot of noisy machines that the humans never opened. Sometimes, there was a door that led to the bed.
Here, the door to the rest of the house also leads outside. The humans seem to get a lot more excited about this door than they ever did about the exit from a mini-house. She's always waving around a paper, or yelling and kicking when I show interest. I make a point of showing a lot of interest whenever she's stumbling and sleepy first thing in the morning. I made her fall down once. Paper flew everywhere. It would have been more satisfying if he had yelled and gotten up to see what was wrong, but he and Jasper just grumbled and rolled around in the bed. They're both lazy like that.
We also have two doors to bathrooms here, instead of one. The humans put our litter box in a box-sized space in one of the bathrooms. The litter box cubby has curtains. Jasper and I finally have a little privacy when we need to use the litter box. Even though the humans can't watch us anymore, I still like to open the door and watch them when they use the human water-chair. It makes him uncomfortable. We also like to go explore after they take a shower. Water is best when it's hot and fresh from the tap.
The clothes room is bigger here, too. Jasper and I both like to climb up onto the shelves. Sometimes, he takes a nap inside our small carrier. I don't know why he does this. The humans only use that carrier when they want to take us somewhere new. I hate going to new places, even if the vet wasn't so bad this time.
I can't prove it, but I have noticed that after I go to the vet, I get new pills. She always use her squeaky "good cat" voice on me when I get a pill, but I'm not fooled. It's just another torture humans have devised for us cats. I'm very proud of the fact that I've never stopped resisting, even after all these years of pills. She was slower than usual yesterday, so I spit out my pill three times and even managed get him to come over so that I could spit water on both humans.
I could talk about my victories over humans all day, but this is a post about the different doors at mini-houses and maxi-houses. They can actually open the noisy machine doors in this house. There are two of sets of machines behind two doors. One set of noisy machines washes the cloths humans like to put all over everything. I don't object to cloths. They're kind of fun, actually. I enjoy lots of different textures for walking, for scratching, and for sleeping. The other machine room just holds a big tank of water. Before the humans filled the room with boxes, Jasper and I liked to lie next to the water tank. It was warm, when it wasn't noisy.
There's a door to the bed here, too. The humans rarely close it, so I don't care about it.
There are three doors here that aren't like any of the doors in any of the mini-houses. One door holds more human clothes and shoes. It's got a separate door to a connected space right next to it where the humans stockpile food. I like to jump and climb on the shelves. These doors also make a satisfying thump-thump noise when I open them at night. I like to wait until the humans are sleeping before I do this.
And then there's the door I like the least. There's nothing special about it. It just leads to another part of the maxi-house. The humans go in all the time, but they never let us come inside too. At first, Jasper and I thought it was an oversight. So we tapped and called and scratched at the door. The humans didn't open the door. They just ignored us, talked to us through the door, or came out and picked us up. I hate being picked up; it's almost always something unpleasant.
I've had sniffs and glances when the door was opened, so I know there's nothing special in the room. It has a bed, computers, furniture, boxes, and books. But the humans are keeping it a humans-only secret. He spends a lot of time in there. Sometimes, she joins him. We've even had a semi-strange human over. The guest-human got to go in the room whenever she wanted, but she didn't let us in at all. This is not fair. I have a right to climb on top of all the furniture and sleep under all the beds in my own maxi-house.
I vow never to give in to the tyranny of a door with a humans-only room behind it. If both humans go behind that door, I will paw at the door, yell, and cause trouble however I can. Humans need feline supervision. The sooner they realize it, the sooner all of us can call this place our home.