If you put another call through from Tom Cruise, I will claw your eyes out as you sleep. Don't laugh. I totally will! For the record, I do not wish to date him (again), I do not wish to convert to Scientology (ever), I do not wish to fund his next movie endeavor (he's cah-raaaaazy), and I don't want to be photographed with Suri (even though that is what he and the rest of the world is waiting for).
When you distribute treats and Brach is too damn lazy to come to the kitchen, I don't think it's fair that you take his share back. The dispensation should be standard and the feline(s) in attendance (me) should be allowed to determine what to do with the unused portion. Check your feline manual, woman. I'm not making this shit up! Also, when he does meander into the kitchen a few minutes later, I don't think it is cool for you to quarantine me so you can give him his share. If you snooze, you lose! That's always been my rule...except when it comes to me. But then, when have I ever snoozed through the scattering of the treats?
When I wish for you to pet me, I will use all the necessary manipulation tactics at my disposal. I find the "Gurgling Bronchial Turmoil" purr works well. You know...the one that makes you think I'm choking on my own saliva! Whatever you wish to call it, I will continue to use it to use it so you will feel sorry for me and scratch the living daylights out of my neck and ear regions.
Speaking of bodily regions, I will continue to lick my butt in front of the open sliding glass door--no matter how embarrassing you say it is for the both of us. I've invited you to join me and you have declined. I'm flexible. You're jealous. Get over it and mind your own business!
Otherwise...you're doing a stellar job! Keep up the good work, lady!