Lay-dee got up to pee in the middle of the night. She was lazy and left the bedroom door cracked open. When she returned, she saw one of those rascal hooligan cats coming out of one of my litter boxes. Lay-dee was not happy with him. I did see him come in and brazenly have his way with my private space. I was half asleep though and far too tired to confront him and put him in his place. Nevertheless, I, Pinky Ruth, felt quite violated.
When Big Daddy came home I meowed nice meows to him and let him scratch my head and cheeks. He started to pet me and rubbed my fur just right. So I rolled to the side a bit and let him rub my belly as well.
I tried to escape to my closet Rubbermaid hidden retreat this evening. I was thwarted (!), threatened (!), terrified (!) by a Dustbuster vacuum that Lay-dee had left just outside my door. I tried to leave my room, but I just could not get myself through the door. I backed up, raise my spine up, fluffed up my fur a bit and put on my mean face. The Dustbuster was not scared of me. I charged a bit and raised my giant paw toward the enemy.
The Dustbuster was unfazed. I even put on my wide eyed, crazy eyes and stared
The Dustbuster was unfazed. I even put on my wide eyed, crazy eyes and stared
down this worthy adversary.
The Dustbuster never once flinched. I turned around, my head hung low, and burrowed my defeated self underneath the blankets. This is when pees-a-lot Lay-dee decided to take my photo.
Not the right time, Lay-dee. Not the right time.
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