So, routines are a thing with us felines, and I’ve certainly developed enough of my own. I know we’ve posted about this topic more than once already, so bear with me here. Dad said, “We’ve done this already, Smudge”. Like he has any say. “You don’t want to bore them to death.”
I said, “Listen, mister, this is my blog, and I’ll post whatever I want.” I turned away from him as I often do with him and mom.
“But you couldn’t do this without me,” dad whined. “You need my help even logging into Blogger.”
“Fair point, I guess, but you’d be surprised to discover what we cats can learn.” I turned and headed for my food dish to let him know this conversation was over.
Dad snorted at this, dribbling his coffee onto his bare chest (unnecessary detail, sure, but it’s been hot lately and, well, anyway) and began snickering like a lunatic. “Yeah, right. You know you can’t do this by yourself, Miss Snotty Pants. Cats aren’t that smart.”
Ooooh, the gloves are off now.
“Don’t even get me going on who’s got more brains here, father!” He knows I mean business when that one comes out. “Who’s the one who can’t keep a checkbook? Who’s the idiot who forgets things all the time? Who needs mom to write everything down for him? Hmm? Checkmate.”
Where was I? Oh yeah, my routines. So every morning, before he even pours his first coffee, before he has his first pee (I know, I know, more unnecessary details), I get what mom and dad call giving me loves. I guess simply “petting the cat” is no longer fashionable.
I’m bored now. And the big guy has to get ready for work. So, yeah, routines. I’ll let my expression in this last one say it all. Smudge out.
1 comment:
Smudge you are delightful this morning. I think you've put in Poor Dad in his place. Now let's just hope you know which button to push to turn the computer on next time. Of course all kitties deserve lots of loving and lots of pets. Linda wanted to tell your dad that she bicycles by a very large Heron Rookery everyday she bicycles. And boy are those birds noisy when they are babies.
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