The People bought me some tasty new dry food about a week ago. Not that I’ll admit it to them (because then the perfect wet Stinky Goodness might disappear), but I like it. It does a much better job of making my tummy feel full, so I don’t feel like I have to launch the Woman out of bed in the morning. I’m being very patient, letting her sleep until she wakes up on her own, just curled up on her tummy.
She doesn’t sleep as late as I figured she would, and she’s much nicer when I don’t do a body slam into the middle of her stomach or stick something up her nose. She wakes up, stretches, tells me I’m a good kitty and scratches behind my ears and under my collar (ohgod, that is too good…but I won’t tell her how much I like that), and gets up.
Now, granted, once in a while I’m still going to stick my nose up hers, or send her glasses flying across the room, but that’s just for fun. And I think it’s in my contract somewhere. You know, the primary Kitty Rule: Thou Shalt Be An Occasional PITA. Something I’m very good at.
Strange thing, though. It’s not cold anymore; all the white stuff is gone and the birds and sticky little people are outside in droves, but she still shivers, keeps the heat up, and curls up under the bright red and blue blanket. She swears she’s cold, but I think she’s just looking for sympathy. And for me to curl up in her lap. Selfish thing.
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