Whenever Mom or Dad say “time to go to bed!” it signals a race to the bed. I always win. The humans are very slow.
These are the Sleeping Rules at My house.
1. Dad gets half of the bed.
2. Mom gets a top ¼ of the bed.
3. I get a bottom ¼ of the bed.
4. Mom must keep her feet in her part of the bed or else I bite them.
5. I am allowed to awaken everyone whenever I am:
a. hungry
b. thirsty
c. bored
d. lonely
e. scared
I have my own kitty bed.
Mom made it. She crocheted it from sheep’s fur using a pattern in an old
Spin-Off Magazine. She was very proud of it when it was finished. She wanted to take a picture of me in it, so she invited me to try it.
I declined.
She put me into it.
I got out.
She insisted that I get back in.
I insisted that I get back out.
She patted it.
I ignored it.
She pointed to it.
I ignored her.
She promised me kitty treats.
I don‘t take bribes.
“Rascal, don’t you like your new kitty bed?”
No.
“Rascal, don’t you want to at least try your new kitty bed?”
No way. I don‘t do anything that isn‘t my idea.
She put me in it again.
By now I had been handled so much that I needed to take a bath, which I proceeded to do.
All the while she kept taking pictures and telling me what a good kitty I was. Which of course I am, because being a good kitty means letting the humans think they’re getting their way.
After she left I curled up in it to take a nap, because it really isn’t such a bad kitty bed after all. Just don’t tell Mom I said so.
Labels: baskets, catnap
This was taken about five years ago. I am helping mom sort out her sheep furs. She wanted to put them in the basket, but I wouldn't let her.
