The pests - sorry, PETS - are getting out of hand.
As Mum is still in hospital and I work full-time, I'm not home as much as I would like. At first, as the only human tin-opener, I commanded some respect. But they have all developed a taste for dry food and sleeping on the bed, which means I am useful in the morning and a waste of space at any other point.
My insistence on claiming bedspace and sitting on the furniture has become an unbearable problem to them. If they could find a human trainer to take me in hand, they would.
Thankfully they lack independent wealth and the ability to use Google.
2 comments:
My moggies are obviously saps. They are responding to me not being about by following me around when I am. Rumpole seems intent on sitting as close to my face as physically possible all the time, which is a bit awkward when you're eating your tea from a tray on your lap.
Clearly, they're up to something
Tig does the same thing, at bedtime. I think he is trying to smother me in my sleep.
Either that or the daft bugger thinks I will die from hypothermia, due to heat loss from my face.
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