Well, I tried. I had my chance this morning to get even with the Man for taking me outside, but it didn’t quite work. I had him on the stairs at 4:30 in the morning, and wound between his legs, even stood on my back legs and pawed at him, but he kept his balance.

I was nicer to the Woman; she was still sleeping when my stomach started growling, so I just jumped up on the bed and waited, patiently, curled up on her back. It didn’t take long, and she was duly grateful for the extra few minutes of snoozing. She didn’t take too long getting down the stairs and fed me right off the bat.

She did scowl at me later—the Man phoned home and tattled on me, told her I’d tried to kill him on the stairs. Phfft. If I’d really wanted him dead … She reminded me that he’s the one who pays for my food, especially the Good Stuff.

Well, fine. I won’t try to kill him, but I’m not going to curl up and kiss his a$$, either. At some point he’ll figure out that feeding me is his honor.

One can hope.

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