Ayatollah-the-Cat demands that I give equal time to her species, well, to HER, precisely, as she hates all other cats. She noticed all that space devoted to dogs in my blog and is giving me the You-Know-What-You-Did look she does so well.
She has developed a new trick. At some mysterious time between 4 and 7 a.m., she arises from my pillow and begins to screech in my ear while marching back and forth in my hair right by the roots so it pulls like crazy. Occasionally she bites my nose, no blood, just a warning to let me know she means business. Like a traffic ticket before they take away your car. She keeps this up until I get out of bed and feed her. It's very effective and fiendishly clever as I know I'm reinforcing the behavior when I give in, but if I don't I'll go bald soon. It's not a good thing when your cat is smarter than you are.
15 comments:
Hey, bitch, what's with the cute nickname? I have no clue what Ayatollah means but it sounds nasty. You know I answer only to Truffle (and Sweetheart, Darling, Baby and God. That's MS. God to you.)
If you don't like me walking in your hair, you should find another place to sleep, maybe in the kitchen by my bowls. Then I wouldn't have to work myself to death trying to maneuver a big creature like yourself into position every day. Cheeesh. It just makes me dog-tired. And that ain't right.
So just don't be getting any more uppity ideas that you run this place because we both know that is another of your pathetic fantasies.
And you need to get off your computer NOW because I'm hungry again. See me in my office.
Cheeky cat!
You don't know the half of it, d~. CWA's, man.
Somebody better watch it. I could slit your throat with one claw, Heart, and you'll wake up to a whole new tomorrow. If you didn't have thumbs you'd be so outa here.
CWA?
Cat with Attitude?
Ohhhh, yeah. Check out her latest comment - I rest my case.
Yep, I've noticed the catitude. And believe me, I'm far too intimidated to address Truffle directly.
Yes, that could be catastrophic.
The Battle of the Truffle
by Rachel A. Gonsalves
A new food for me,
I stare at it curiously.
There it is just sitting there,
It stares back with its warming eyes,
A dark chocolate truffle.
I pick it up gingerly,
As it screams between my fingers.
I touch it with my tongue,
And sensations of chocolate overwhelm me,
I place it back on my napkin.
Swirls of dark and light brown,
Swim together in an earthy wonder.
The smells like dark chocolate gone bad,
Or coffee, and the texture
Is smooth, but slimey when wet.
The truffle in my mouth,
Sits there as though bored.
A thin powdery layer on top,
Beneath that is rich creamy chocolate,
Slimey as a slug in my mouth,
I begin to enjoy the melting sensation.
The truffle gets its revenge.
A shocking and powerful taste of bitterness,
Brings memories of nasty foods,
Spinach and squash,
Beets and radishes,
Zucchini and tofu.
I grab my napkin,
Put it to my mouth,
Though it’s “un-ladylike”,
I spit that truffle out,
As it gives a victorious cry.
Viewing that liquid in disgust,
Throwing it away with a “Hah!”,
What I didn’t know,
Was that evil truffle,
Left his soldiers behind.
The after taste was as shocking as the truffle,
I downed a lot of water flooding those evil minions,
I had won an impossible battle,
The battle of the truffle.
I never met a dark chocolate truffle I didn't like.
We love you, Truffle.
Go hiss up a rope.
Truffle has noticed that she gets more mail than I do, and now she wants her OWN blog.
Coming soon to a computer near you...
I've been hissing up a rope. Now what?
(I'm not neutered).
O-oh, mister. I like that in a man.
Is this a proposal?
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