The Brave Little Toaster July 13, 2011Posted by Stupor Kitty in Big Lug, Stupor Kitty.
Er. . . that would be Kitty. The Brave Little Kitty.
I am NOT a toaster. I’m not even bigger than a breadbox.
We all know that, ever since my people brought that . . . beast into the house, I’ve been doing my best to make sure they truly understand my displeasure. There will be no cuddling with THIS kitty, not as long as HE’s around!
Oh, don’t get me wrong – I’m not about to give up my creature comforts – not on account of some slobbery dog, that’s for sure! I still get my fill of sunshiney-window time. And I’ve got Mother hand-feeding me treats because, you know, I’m so lonely and scared. <snort>
Speaking of the droolmeister. You would not believe the amount of <shudder> dog hair <shudder> that’s infesting this house. Mother talks about “dust puppies” but I don’t know who she thinks she’s fooling – that is SO not dust. It’s fuzzballs – the canine kind which, by the way, are the worst kind. At least the delicate amount of slightly-used down that I shed is mainly confined to my own bed. I would never inflict my personal grooming issues on the rest of the house. Just . . . gack.
(Yeah, about that little issue a while back? I’ve lost some weight and look and feel so much better now.)
So, as I was saying. Mother has taken to calling me Queen of the Underdark, which, while flattering, I don’t think she means it in a properly respectful way. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s making fun of me. The old witch.
And they STILL won’t get rid of that . . . animal.
I suppose I’m going to have to ease them back into Kitty World. Remind them what they’re missing out on. Not that they deserve me. But still, maybe they can’t help it. After all, that brute is such an attention hog – what are they supposed to do?
So I’m starting slowly. Occasional glimpses. Climbing up onto Father’s lap while he’s reading. Following Mother to the bathroom.
Heh. While they’re feeling so “sorry” for me for being so “cowed” by the “dog,” I just wait for them all to go to bed, then I prance around the house naked!
And so, the other evening, Mother opened the bedroom door, and I just slipped right in there and hopped up into the bed with Father. He was so surprised!
Yeah, you don’t get night time cuddles from that ruffian, do you?
And then, the next thing I knew, the ruffian had started with the Darth Vader stuff, and I knew I’d given them enough precious me-time, so I left them with nothing but the sweet, sweet memory of my cuddly self.
But I’ll be back.