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Feb. 12th, 2004 06:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hafoc
Penny Cat is mad at me again.
She's learned the basic rule of political constituencies: Make enough noise and fuss and Those in Power will give you a handout. In her case it isn't anything as complex as social security payments for retirees driving around in $800,000 motor homes, though. All she wants is a third can of Fancy Feast per day.
She may not be aware that she's getting decidedly pudgy, but (pudgy as I am myself) I know it. So I'm not inclined to oblige her.
Nevertheless, she makes a fuss, and she does so by attacking me when I'm too disoriented and helpless to fight back. When I'm trying to sleep, for example.
A couple nights ago, at about 3:00 AM, she started out paw paw paw paw paw paw paw paw pawing my chin. When I hid under the blanket, she proceeded to start playing with the things on the bedside table, knocking the clock radio onto the floor. Chased away from there, she attacked the papers and small objects on the shelves on the OTHER side of the bed. And so it went, from 3:00 to 7:00. Which may explain my previous post. I was not in the best of moods when I wrote it. True, publishers are mostly bastards, but there's no reason for me to bore my friends with such a self-evident truth. :)
Penny has figured out that complaining enough can get her that extra can of food. Unfortunately for her, since she isn't in the AARP, there's a second possibility she didn't consider. I just lock her out of the bedroom at night, leaving a fan on so I can't hear her paw paw paw paw paw paw paw paw paw paw pawing at the door.
I have to put up with piteous mews and reproaches when I get up. She has informed me that I have failed in my mission in life (keeping the food dish full) and I should be ashamed of myself.
But at least I got my sleep.
She's learned the basic rule of political constituencies: Make enough noise and fuss and Those in Power will give you a handout. In her case it isn't anything as complex as social security payments for retirees driving around in $800,000 motor homes, though. All she wants is a third can of Fancy Feast per day.
She may not be aware that she's getting decidedly pudgy, but (pudgy as I am myself) I know it. So I'm not inclined to oblige her.
Nevertheless, she makes a fuss, and she does so by attacking me when I'm too disoriented and helpless to fight back. When I'm trying to sleep, for example.
A couple nights ago, at about 3:00 AM, she started out paw paw paw paw paw paw paw paw pawing my chin. When I hid under the blanket, she proceeded to start playing with the things on the bedside table, knocking the clock radio onto the floor. Chased away from there, she attacked the papers and small objects on the shelves on the OTHER side of the bed. And so it went, from 3:00 to 7:00. Which may explain my previous post. I was not in the best of moods when I wrote it. True, publishers are mostly bastards, but there's no reason for me to bore my friends with such a self-evident truth. :)
Penny has figured out that complaining enough can get her that extra can of food. Unfortunately for her, since she isn't in the AARP, there's a second possibility she didn't consider. I just lock her out of the bedroom at night, leaving a fan on so I can't hear her paw paw paw paw paw paw paw paw paw paw pawing at the door.
I have to put up with piteous mews and reproaches when I get up. She has informed me that I have failed in my mission in life (keeping the food dish full) and I should be ashamed of myself.
But at least I got my sleep.
