You can't fool a cat. Ever. Don't even try.

Missy Kitty knows something is afoot, so she's keeping a close eye on the human activity in and around her home.

She knows it has something to do with relocating -- whatever that is. Oh, sure, Missy Kitty has moved before, but that wasn't so bad. All she had to do was crouch in a pet carrier and howl like a dying banshee, and, before she knew, it she was in her new home with nice yard, a cushy chair to call her own, a perpetually full food dish plus refrigerator privileges and special access to the milk jug.

Is there anything else a cat could want? Really?

Missy Kitty is fully prepared to do the wailing bit again. She has kept in practice over the years. Every time she is put in the pet carrier for her annual visit to the vet, she rehearses the full range of primitive vocals that sound like the original Song of Death, Destruction and Devastation first performed when the first feral cat was caught by animals with opposable thumbs and locked in a pet carrier. That must have been, oh, 50 or 60 million years ago.

Maybe longer.

The cat's wails of anguish were refreshed Tuesday on the way to and from the vet's office. It's about a 10-minute drive, but it seems, what with all the gut-wrenching noise one small cat can make, that the trip must have lasted several hours.

And then there's The Look.

Missy Kitty has many expressions, many of which she uses throughout the day to get exactly what she wants when she wants it. Perhaps the strongest physical demonstration of her mood is reserved for the look of disdain she gives her humans when they do something she does not approve of, a look that conveys, "Bad humans!" and "You're mother would be ashamed!" in the same glance.

It's very effective. Believe me.

But let's cut Missy Kitty some slack. She is a creature of routine, and her schedule, bless her heart, has been blown to heck in recent weeks.

Not only have complete strangers been walking through her yard and her house as if they had every right to be there, but the cat's physical world also has taken a few hits.

There's the patio fountain, for example.

Although her humans give her fresh water every day, Missy Kitty rarely touches the stuff. She prefers to climb on the fountain rocks and perch precariously until she can reach one of the pools of stagnant water and take a few sips.

That option is gone. The fountain has disappeared. Humans spent the better part of a day hauling the rocks away, one pickup load at a time. When it was all said and done, an estimated four tons of rocks, most of them collected over half a century of visits to rocky places, were gone.

Apparently, from Missy Kitty's point of view, humans have a strange way of marking their territory. If it were up to her, moving tons of rocks wouldn't even be on the radar.

Then there was the wicker patio furniture with the soft pads just right for nocturnal napping when the weather was pleasant.

Gone.

What do humans think a cat is supposed to do? Sleep in the cat bed they paid good money for at the pet store? No way!

If Missy Kitty thinks her life is being consumed by some crazy upheaval where she lives now, just wait until she is moved -- in a pet carrier -- to her new home across town.

To our soon-to-be new neighbors: Do not be alarmed. The noises coming from the pet carrier are only temporary. They do not accurately reflect the true status of a cat's well-being, no matter how convinced you are that a domestic animal is being shamefully abused beyond all belief.

Trust me. The cat is fine.

Well, as fine as a cat can be when humans make outrageous decisions to upset one tiny animal's whole life.

Isn't there a law against this? There ought to be.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.