Stranger in a Strange Room

 [This pink, weird room may as well belong to someone else, like this strange cat here, who doesn't seem to mind pink.]  

Ruru the Cat here.  So I liked my person's room just fine the way it was.  I was used to all the smells and the walls and the furniture and the floor just the way they were.  I'd shredded them all with my claws.  I had a place to hide under the bed.  The walls had dangly bits of wallpaper I could swat at.  It all smelled like me.  Everything was perfect. 

Then, my people started doing those weird things I talked about, where they rearranged everything then cleared out the entire room.  I mean, there was NOTHING left to smell like me.  It all smelled empty and cold.  Oh, and of old mice long dead and not fun anymore.  It was very boring. 

Then, they started covering the walls with wood that did not smell of me and then slapping on paint that smelled strong and funny.  And was PINK of all things.  Not that cats care much about color, but say what?  How can I take my person's room when it's not some predatory red or awesome black.  The mice won't take me seriously when I live in a pink room.  I couldn't even smell that echo of old mice anymore.  It was all suddenly painty and yucky. 

So then they started doing this outrageous thing by putting new carpet in.  That even more blocked out the pleasant mousy smells and, even worse, the me smells that were here before.  It all smelled like Something Else.  I mean, just anybody could come along and mark it, then it would smell like them, not me.  Oh, and it's so hard to jump all the way onto the higher, bigger bed to reach my person.  It's all very inconvenient. 

It will take so much work to turn this room into mine again.   Why do people have to come along and mess up such a good thing we had going here?  It's just not fair.