Geez, I was just napping...

Okay, so I like moving the places I enjoy napping. I'll sleep on one of the big beds for a couple weeks, then move to my bed under the Woman's desk for a couple weeks, then the sofa...I'm predictable in my changing moods.

But a few days ago I moved to an old, old spot, under one of the big beds. It had been so long since I'd slept there that stuff had accumulated and it was difficult to squeeze in, but I made it, and had a nice, wide spot in the center. And I went to sleep.

Next thing I know, the Woman has pulled some things out of the way and she's on her belly on the floor. She looks at me and says--no kidding--"Why you little forker!"

But she didn't say forker.

Then she went on to say she had looked under the bed like four times and never saw me. Yeah, well, it's dark under there and I've got a lot of black fur, so what did she expect? She only found me on the fifth try when I opened my eyes. And I opened my eyes because SHE HAD RUINED A GREAT NAP.

I tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but I heard her tell the Man she was actually nauseated. And then it was like, oh crap, I have to get up and make her feel better. So I did, but I was not happy about it. I mean, not only was the nap ruined, but now the space is ruined because it's not a secret hiding place anymore.

At least Buddah doesn't know about it.

I don't think, anyway.

Now, they were never worried that I'd gotten outside, because no one had gone outside, which means they were worried about something worse. But hells bells, I have steak in the fridge. I'm not going anywhere.

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New Wick short up at The Wick Chronicles. Becoming Blackshear. It's posted in four parts because it's kind of a long one. And looking at things, the ones that follow might be kind of long. ALmost like I usually write novels...

You might feel stabby after reading this one. Heh.

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Just for the heck of it, here's a picture of me staring at the Woman.

Mmmm...Steak...

Apparently I am a sloppy eater.

This does not bother me. It doesn't really bother the People, either, but they still bring it up a few times a week, usually when they're washing my place mat.

I dunno what I was eating when they snapped this picture, but a few days ago, after not getting any for a long time because they thought I was getting tired of it, there was steak.

Not just any steak.

Ribeye.

Spendy steak.

The Woman prefers giving my ribeye because it's easy to cut into thin strips, which is apparently important even though it doesn't get all the seeds out. I prefer it because it's delicious. The Man probably doesn't prefer it because sirloin is cheaper and why can't I just have that?

Because the Woman prefers the ribeye and knows I like it best, and what I like, I get.

This is one of the perks of being an old man. Don't fear getting old, doods. When you're old, people will do just about anything you want, if they can. I want ribeye, I get ribeye.

I think it stems from the Man's days working in nursing homes when he was a teenager. He had this one patient, an 80 year old diabetic, who just wanted a slice of his birthday cake. The nurses wouldn't let him have it, because diabetes. The Man has always thought that was kinda mean, that if you hit 80 years old, and you have something like diabetes, you know the risks. You know how to account for it. And old men should get their damned birthday cake.

So I get my damned steak, and I get ribeye if the store has it when they go shopping.

I'm glad they got me one this week. I kinda missed it, even though I was getting real live fresh dead shrimp and other dead delicious things.

I think I get a fresh one tomorrow.

And they wonder why I'm still plugging along. Why would I leave? I have them trained, and I get STEAK.