Despite everything you told me last night, I still believe it is appropriate for me to make a deposit in the litterbox whilst you are still scooping prior offenses. It's not my fault if you are a slow scooper! By now, you should know that whenever you do anything that has to do with something that belongs to me, I will be there--making sure you don't ruin my things. As soon as you lifted the top of the litterbox, I knew you needed some supervision, and, in the spirit of efficiency, I felt making a donation while you were scooping seemed sensible.
Let's talk about treats for a minute, shall we? When you run out of treats, please refrain from serving the "back-up-sucky-flavored-treats." I know you have a stash of treats I do not like in the fridge that you reserve for the times when the good treat jar is empty. I hate that! You know that I look forward to the times when, after I plead and beg for what seems like hours, you head to the fridge to get the snacks. You must understand what a complete buzz-kill it is to think I'm getting savory snacks, only to find that you've littered the carpet with what can best be described as nuggets of pure crap. And don't be fooled by Brach. Just because he gobbles them down like nobody's business doesn't mean they are fit for cats. Brach will eat anything (let's not forget the string incident, his affinity for scotch tape, and that he licks asses--both his and mine). My advice? Get a surplus of the treats you know we like and throw the jar of junk away for good! We'll all be better for it.
While I have your attention, I feel I need to mention that it's probably better for both of us if you keep room on your lap for me in the evenings. Most of the time, you seem to
- I stand at your feet and look up at you, offering a tiny whine from the back of my throat.
- You say, "What, Kukka?" as if you don't know what I want from you.
- I jump onto the arm of the chair and stare at you until you make eye contact with me.
- Again, feigning ignorance, you say, "What do you want, honey?"
- I gingerly approach your lap and decide to lie down on top of the ____________ (insert remote control, knitting, book, plate of food, or other miscellaneous item here) that you have refused to move for me.
I guess that's it for now. I'll wait until next time to address my need for you to pet me incessantly from 6:00am until you drag your lazy butt from bed at 7:30, and my desire to have my own bedroom--with a queen-sized bed (read: you can start sleeping on the couch at any time).