There is a suitcase in the hallway. Rodgit has vanished. Poe is acting... cuddly. Akela Jean Underland does not approve. In this week’s Catdiva Monologue, she processes the scent of betrayal, the encroachment of affection, and the growing threat of something called “Thailand.” Elegance endures. Trust does not.

The wardrobe is gone. The sausages have stopped. Rodgit has fled. Again. Akela Jean Underland, High Priestess of Passive-Aggression and Former Pillow Monarch, returns with a new monologue from the crumb-laden trenches. This week: she mourns her sanctuary, rages against unjust nicknames, and plots vengeance from atop the coat pile. Because when the sausages end… so does civility.

“Then they published it. Then they were happy. Oh you should have seen it. Such betrayal. They hugged. Each other of course. I… I was not included.” This week, Akela Jean Underland reflects on emotional neglect, soggy flirtations, and suspicious furniture movement. The zine has stolen her mothers’ affection, Rodgit has returned (again), and something unsettling lurks beneath the damp.

Akela Jean Underland has had enough. The suitcases are back, Rogit is encroaching, and — Bastet help us — the chicken has entered the kitchen. Unlicked, betrayed, and emotionally unraveling, our Catdiva delivers a devastating monologue in three acts. Let them come. She remains… dramatic.

He rubs their faces like some simpering little orphan in a Dickensian melodrama. ‘Oh please, Mother, can I have some more…’ Why I—I could—” This week, betrayal comes in paw form. Mowgli’s stolen tactics, Rogit’s soggy flirtations, and the unspeakable horror of a brush to the face push Akela Jean Underland to the edge (of the basin). Volume VI: Pawprints of Betrayal, Bristles of War is live now.