We have established that there are items I hold dear and try to keep away from prying hands. We also know that I sometimes have to resort to dubious means to secure these objects from soft-minded humans. I have a confession to make: there is a certain thrill in appropriating these trophies.
Woobie: Any blanket or throw made of sufficiently soft material designed to be used on random furniture or even the floor, as befits the mood.
Well yes, I am, but it has nothing to do with that gaudy contraption! How would you like to wear a rug?
Something I have yet to discuss is that there is another cat living here. An old, decrepit lady who needs special care. To protect her identity, we shall call her Mathayus. We are never in the greater part of the house at the same time, and her food and water bowls are removed before I am allowed to roam my domain. Usually, that is.
I am not sure if you would believe it without first-hand empirical observation, but these humans insist on pure torment when it comes to my meals. Instead of inviting me to join them at their feasting furniture, as would be the polite and inclusionary thing to do, they shove a few measly pellets of some minimally nutritional foodstuffs into a round deceptively-toy-like ball which slowly and infrequently doles out a single pellet at a time.
Lick. Lick. Lick. Lick lick lick. Licklicklicklicklicklicklicklicklick. Oh. I did not see you there.
A thief in the night. I had just retrieved one of my precious nail files when it happened: a raid.
Do not be deceived by my willingness to cuddle up to you. I am always plotting your demise.
The first escape attempt was aborted due to loud canine vocalizations two yards over and the silly humans running after me calling my name. Though, I might point out, they did not precede Biscuit with the ever-necessary and expected “Mr.” Continue reading “Foiled”