Well, not really, but it seems like my fur kids have a conspiracy to keep me running late to work. This morning, I was having a hard enough time getting out of bed (it's 20 degrees Fahrenheit here in Ohio), and Rocky comes up and starts headbutting me and purring in my ear. Then he stood on my chest wanting to be petted. Then he sat on my feet. I think he wants to keep me home -- any time I've been gone longer than he feels is necessary, he cries when I open the door, like he's saying, "MOM! Where've you been?"
As smart as they are, I do wish they'd understand the correlation between me going to work and them getting good quality food . . .
As smart as they are, I do wish they'd understand the correlation between me going to work and them getting good quality food . . .
