[click picture for terrifying candidate update]Michael is a total man. He's goddam patronizing! And if you don't get situated on the couch fast enough to suit his desire to nap on your chest, he'll fucking clobber you! It's as if I were a member of his harem and sworn to cater to his every whim.
He and Domino, the beta male, have to duke it out ten times a day for supremacy on the issue of who can make a bigger hairy deal out of getting fed or who can have what end of the runner carpet or just who is a more sterling specimen.... And I have to sound loudly displeased before they will pretend nothing happened and quit with their jerky little battles. Then Frosty gets a daily swat just to keep her knowing who's boss, I guess. Heavy sigh.
This house should be big enough for the four of us, but it never seems like it. It's a chaos of cattitude all day and all night, and I'll be damned if it doesn't always feel like Michael's patronizing me! I was taking turns last night napping on the couch and on the bed. Kept waking up from one to think I ought to just try the other. Finally got to really sleeping and Michael came to get in my face about going outside. He goddam sat there, six inches away, and stared at me until I would comply. When I finally got up to let him out he actually acted as if he were being solicitous of me, allowing me to serve him.
Amazing.
People do this shit called "cat blogging". They're so wrapped up in the personalities of their feline family members that they do nothing but talk about their damn cats either full time or at dependable intervals. Pfeh.
Get a life.
When they are not manipulating me into service, they are acting as if I were the cat goddess... which is the cosmic manipulation. Constantly jockeying for your enthrallment. Forever a power trip. And you fall for it.
Pfeh.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.