Last night, after a dinner of turkey and giblets and a post-prandial aerobics workout with Rowdy, I joined Mom and Dad in our queen-sized bed. As I reclined on a large, soft pillow Mom scratched my ears. Just as I was getting into a groove, purring and kneading, Mom said something that shocked me - she called me a "spoiled kitty"!
Now, I ask you: do I seem to be spoiled? I work HARD, around here: keeping an eye on the neighbors, making sure that Mom knows the instant that the food bowl is empty and keeping Mom's arthritic hip warm. In addition, my interior decorating talents are legendary. I sacrifice large quantities of my luxuriant coat, to keep the house looking homey and lived-in. Then, Mom undoes all of my efforts, with that noisy sucking thingy.
Are these the earmarks of a "spoiled" kitty? I may have to rethink and scale back my contributions to the household. Maybe, I'll work on that AFTER my post-breakfast snack and nap.
Buddy
Now, I ask you: do I seem to be spoiled? I work HARD, around here: keeping an eye on the neighbors, making sure that Mom knows the instant that the food bowl is empty and keeping Mom's arthritic hip warm. In addition, my interior decorating talents are legendary. I sacrifice large quantities of my luxuriant coat, to keep the house looking homey and lived-in. Then, Mom undoes all of my efforts, with that noisy sucking thingy.
Are these the earmarks of a "spoiled" kitty? I may have to rethink and scale back my contributions to the household. Maybe, I'll work on that AFTER my post-breakfast snack and nap.
Buddy