[Me being sympathetic to my brother, Scoutie]
Now, his people have moved nearby. He was so happy to be held by them all the time, passed from one family member to another. Until they took him away from us, his kitty buddies. And put him in a smaller space. And then he became an even LOUDER whiner. He whines when he comes for a visit because he misses them, and he whines for us when he's stuck over there. Some days, I feel bad for my brother. I try to lick and snuggle him better because that's what cats do. Other days, I just want to tease him because he's acting like a kitten. A teensie weensie baby kitten.
[Me showing an example of how to put up with your people's crap, whether you like it or not.]
He's got his people back! That has to count for something. When my person comes back from a long day away, first, I act like I want nothing to do with her because that's what cats do. Otherwise, we're in danger of losing our cat badge. Only dogs stand at the door, waiting for their person. Then I let her snuggle me. That's it. I don't whine when she holds me too tightly or sticks me in a room where I don't want to be. She's my person. She can flip me upside down and put bows on my butt. She's my person. That's all that matters. Scoutie waits like a dog by the door and snuggles them when it's easy, but as soon as they stick him in a small, unfamiliar space, he complains. I want to shake that cat. His people are his people. There are cat guidelines for this. You're loyal to your person, but you don't act loyal. No standing by doors and no whining when you have your people again. What does it take to teach a cat how to be a cat?
[Me, showing you a blackmail shot of my brother. See? He's such a baby!]
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