UrsulaV (ursulav) wrote,
UrsulaV
ursulav

I am the cat's bitch.

Seriously. I'm in the studio, painting porcupines, and she starts wriggling around on the floor, killing the dangerous sunbeams before they breed. I ignore her. She dances around some more. I ignore her. She starts playing with a crinkly plastic bag. I ignore it. She begins sharpening her claws on my stool. I grumble, get up, scoop her up and walk three steps to the door planning to eject her forcibly from the studio.

Instead she wiggles around, puts a paw on either side of my neck, shoves her head under my chin, goes limp as a concussed dishrag and begins to purr.

Not being made of stone, I wind up wandering through the house cradling the cat, who is clinging to me like a tree-sloth and evidentally content to stay in this position indefinitely.

As soon as I sit down again, still holding the cat, she sits up, gives me an offended look--obviously I have failed in my couchly duties! then leaps down and stalks off.

One of us is obviously a total ingrate, but for the life of me, I couldn't tell you which one.
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 5 comments