Sunday, June 18, 2017

My (mostly) well-trained person



Ruru the cat here.  My person is nice to have around.  If I really don't feel like walking all the way upstairs, I can usually talk her into taking me there.  If I need to be loved, she can be trusted to hunt me down where I pretend to hide and act like I don't want love, so she can snuggle me and rearrange my ears.  She wants me to sit on her lap like a person, laughs, and calls people over to show them.  Okay.  I can handle that as long as she keeps the food coming.  I will tolerate a lot.  


But recently, she's developed the most annoying habit of shoving my face in this clear, flat thing where there's a portal to a scary, unfamiliar cat that smells funny.  My person calls it a "mirror." I've told her I don't like it at all.   That other, odorless cat scares me.  Creeps me out.  I don't know what it's going to do to me.  I like cats I can smell and beat up on if they sit in my spot.  This one stares at me and hisses at me and pushes away from me as if I scare it, too.  Get thee hence, mirror monster.  

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