Poor Maggie, my sweet yet chubby cat.

She hates Mittens the kitten. He annoys her and upsets her dignity by running across the room and rolling her over as he leaps across her bow. She growls at him. He blinks at her, then backs up, charges and tumbles over with her again.

Every day when Rob and I come home, Maggie waddles up to the door and looks at the handle, expecting to be let out. Mittens is too stupid to go outside, so he may whine at the door but is not allowed to go play. Maggie used to be a barn cat so she's well-equiped, even without claws, to defend herself in the cold, cruel world. And she's so big, 18 - 20 pounds of raw cathood, that she's not molested by the other neighborhood critters.

Last night when I came home, Mittens perked up and whined to be let out. "Where's Maggie?" I asked him. Then we both heard an odd sound from upstairs and turned to look toward the living room.

*shlup*
*shlup*
*shlup*

Maggie turned the corner to come greet me wearing nothing but a paper bag about her substantial waist. I blinked. Mittens blinked. Maggie waddled up to the door, paper bag shlupping beside her like a motorcycle sidecar. She had threaded herself through one of the bag's paper handles but could not, due to her girth, slip out the other end. She could not back up out of the bag either, as the strap slipped upward into her fur when she moved, keeping it loosely trapped around her chest.

"I can't let you outside looking like that!" I said. I cut the bag's handle strap, pulling the handle so as not to cut her. Shooting me a dirty look at the delay, she darted outside.

Once she was safely out of earshot, Mittens and I had a good laugh at her expense (poor Maggie).

*shlup*