Initially when I read this question, I glazed over the “for a week” part. I initially thought of what my grandpa said one time when watching my Grandma Jean pamper their rescue dog, Hammer. Hammer was a retired racing greyhound. They lived in Florida and apparently there were organizations dedicated to finding homes for the retired dogs. Of Hammer, Grandpa said that when he dies, he wants to come back as a dog. He was onto something. Because while I don’t want to come back as a dog, I’d definitely come back as a house cat.
Even if it is just for a week, being a cat would be a great vacation. Lots of lazy napping goodness. Meals served to you without having to cook. You don’t have to go outside. Your human cleans your toilet for you. You have all the cushiony luxury of a bed to nap in, or the perch on your cat tree in front of a window, allowing you to sunbathe while you sleep. Total Shangri-La! I give you the most recent picture of Nugget as evidence:
I could definitely spend a week in the lap of luxury like she does every day of her life.
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