Great Bast, listen to this little cat! You gave me a mother when I was born. You found kind hands to lift me from the ditch I was forced to shelter in when living on my own. Come to my aid once again and help me to find a my-very-own home.
The lady here is wonderfully kind. She gives me treats, scritches my neck, and spends long evenings downstairs reading or knitting while I purr and purr upon her lap. She has bought a kitty bed for me and covered the couch in a wooly throw to keep me warm at night.
But Bast, despite her love, I am bedeviled by the other cats residing here. Beatrice won’t let me come upstairs. And because—as the kind lady explains—this place is a “loft” (whatever that is) there is no bedroom door to shut for protection, so I am not safe to curl up with her at night and have to sleep alone downstairs. Bea growls at me and chases me indoors when I try to go out to sun myself.
Sparky doesn’t frighten me the way Bea does, but he is a greedy thing, always emptying my food bowl before he goes to his own. I hide under the table when he comes in, and he jumps atop it and knocks things off so they come crashing down around me.
The kind lady says she wishes I wouldn’t growl so, that if I were calm and quiet, Bea and Sparky might follow my example. But Bast! I have lived in a ditch. I have struggled with raccoons for a scrap of food tossed aside by a careless student. I have a scar from these battles across my nose and another along my chin. I know what it is to be hungry and cold and afraid. I cannot forget the difficult life I have lived.
I want a person and a home to myself. Please Bast, bless me with a my-very-own home. If you do, I will sing your praises to my new companion, using purrs and nuzzles and kneading to echo the bountiful heart with which you rule this world. I will keep laps and beds warm. I will give thanks both waking and sleeping for your greatness and for kind hands that keep a kitty safe.
Please, Bast—a home. I need a home.