I finally started to accept my people. This has mostly come from good training. I still have to get very vocal to get my point across sometimes. At least they have learned that picking me up is a big no-no.  Not speaking with them after any such experience has gotten them to do it much less. 

The house is pretty fun. The wood floor took a little getting used to, but fortunately, they decided on carpeting in the new living room. I have free run of the place in the evenings. Sunny afternoons are nice too. I spend those napping in the sunbeam that hits my cage. 

The bad news is, that while Dad is really, really good in the treat department, he's taken to calling me a dog. He says it's something about being "in denial". Well, they do make jokes about my growling anyway. Now, I find this just a bit offensive, since I am obviously far superior to any old dog. What happened to the good old days when he was calling me "Princess"? I kind of liked that name. It reflected my true self. Looks like I've got to work more on that training thing. 

The construction in the house is quieting down. That's good, because it gets my cage all messy, and I really hate a messy cage. Just to annoy me, my people have started rearranging the thing just because they find it amusing to watch me put everything back.  A small temper tantrem on my part got them to stop.  After all, the slinky *does* belong right next to the litter pan.   Isn't it obvious? 

Dad finds it amusing that I'm neater about keeping my own stuff than Mom is about hers. He's using my example to teach her how to keep things. It's a good thing I'm here. These people really needed me.