Mummy announced today that I am no longer Man of the House.
At least, temporarily.
She says it is because I have taken up a bit of a habit of
yelling at her when I don’t get my way, say in getting my drink from the faucet in
a timely manner.
Well…what is wrong with having your drinks on time, say I?
And when Mummy fails to be forthcoming with the drinks, what
is wrong with a little verbal reminder?
Speaking of time, Mummy had the audacity to change
all the clocks in the house this past Sunday, so now we poor little kits are
getting our meals an hour LATER! What sort of rot is this? She says it was not she
who changed the time but I saw her do it with my own lovely green eyes.
She isn’t fooling me.
So I am forced to be a bit demanding of late, insistent that she
not let the standards drop even if she cannot keep time straight. If she wants to change time [and claim it was
some invisible third party], that is alright by me, provided she gets up an
hour earlier to compensate. To ensure this, I have been practicing my “alarm
clock” technique:
Step 1 - Tickle face with whiskers
Step 2 – Whisk tail across face after whiskers are brushed
aside
Step 3 – Walk across tummy
Step 4 – Stand on back after Mummy turns over to avoid me
walking on tummy
Step 5 – Yowl uncontrollably
Say what she will, this method is extremely effective. She
gets up (eventually) and dutifully, if begrudgingly, doles out the foodstuffs. But
this morning she said she had had enough of my cantankerousness (talk about the
pot calling the kettle black!) and stated emphatically that I was no longer Man
of the House until such time as I straightened up my cattitude.
I am sure I don’t know what she means.
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