She jumped onto bookcases, jumped onto the dinner table and almost-jump out the open balcony because she’s bored or stark raving mad. And when she’s done, she’ll sits on her throne (our Panton chair) like Her Majestic Queen of Scot-frickin-land waiting to bat at anyone who comes near her.
I had to resort to grabbing her furry little hide and putting her in her cage where she will behave better but being a Queen of Melodramatics, she started meowing and purring and stretching out her furry feline paws asking to be released. She got her way naturally despite my resolve to ignore her fake pitiful cries because Aidil couldn’t stand it and released the bolt.
She was pissed at me because I swear she scoffed and gave me the wonky eye treatment as she walked passed me. I mentally shook my fist at her and it became a battle of sorts between me and that bratty hairball. She gave me the icy treatment and I gave her a double shot of that by ignoring her.
She won naturally, because eventually I had to throw a paper ball at her ‘cos she jumped on the dinner table again.
I swear if I speak cat talk, I would say ‘meow meow meooow meow OK’ which basically means ‘wake up your bloddy attitude, pull up your socks and go frickin find a job’.
No. Yes. No, mostly it will mean ‘please clean up your own litter’ and then I will give her the wonky eye in ten quick succession to state my point.
Grrr, I love that silly psycho bitch.
Blogged with the Flock Browser
No comments:
Post a Comment