My kitty is pawing at my leg. He wants me to sit in the recliner with a pillow on my lap so he can luxuriate there. Two-handed petting will ensue. He'll get annoyed and jump down if I read, bumping my book a couple of times first to make his point. Then, he'll wait a bit and jump back up and crawl into the space between my face and the book. It's hard to read that way, but he doesn't mind.
This is Buddy, the guy who was never supposed to survive beyond last September. We finally threw out Buddy's old cardboard box that he loved, the one that labeled him a former homeless kitty, the one that sagged until it was flat in the middle and smelled a little like a damp book. Buddy didn't like that it got flat in the middle and looked at me as if it was my fault it had happened. It's kind of like the way I blame my dryer for shrinking all of my pants when it is clearly not to blame. Worse yet, Teddy, the puppy, thought that the box was a toy and chewed on it a bit, making the whole thing even more pathetic. Buddy really didn't like that and thwapped the poor guy on the head a few times to elucidate his opinion. I have hard enough time making my living room a place of comfort and warmth without a saggy, chewed up box lying at one end of it, so, after checking with Mike to make sure I wasn't being cruel, I recycled it. Good riddance, too.
Buddy has taken up residence in a plastic tray I used to use to organize papers, a portable in-box, if you will. I liked my in-box. Buddy liked it more and now it's deep under the coffee table with a blanket folded up in it for extra comfort. I'd say it's a big step up from cardboard to plastic and fleece. The next thing you know, Buddy will be asking for a sparkling Perrier on ice and the duck and pea combo for lunch. Oh, right. He already eats duck and peas for every meal, Hill's prescription d/d diet. It really did help with the puking, but really? There's a reason this gato has not kicked the bucket yet. He's in heaven right here.
I love that I can supply a little bit of heaven right here in my tatty little living room.
Thank you for listening, jb
This is Buddy, the guy who was never supposed to survive beyond last September. We finally threw out Buddy's old cardboard box that he loved, the one that labeled him a former homeless kitty, the one that sagged until it was flat in the middle and smelled a little like a damp book. Buddy didn't like that it got flat in the middle and looked at me as if it was my fault it had happened. It's kind of like the way I blame my dryer for shrinking all of my pants when it is clearly not to blame. Worse yet, Teddy, the puppy, thought that the box was a toy and chewed on it a bit, making the whole thing even more pathetic. Buddy really didn't like that and thwapped the poor guy on the head a few times to elucidate his opinion. I have hard enough time making my living room a place of comfort and warmth without a saggy, chewed up box lying at one end of it, so, after checking with Mike to make sure I wasn't being cruel, I recycled it. Good riddance, too.
Buddy has taken up residence in a plastic tray I used to use to organize papers, a portable in-box, if you will. I liked my in-box. Buddy liked it more and now it's deep under the coffee table with a blanket folded up in it for extra comfort. I'd say it's a big step up from cardboard to plastic and fleece. The next thing you know, Buddy will be asking for a sparkling Perrier on ice and the duck and pea combo for lunch. Oh, right. He already eats duck and peas for every meal, Hill's prescription d/d diet. It really did help with the puking, but really? There's a reason this gato has not kicked the bucket yet. He's in heaven right here.
I love that I can supply a little bit of heaven right here in my tatty little living room.
Thank you for listening, jb
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