|The Apricot horror, scheming his annexation of the spare room.|
Anyhow, the boy was looking for somewhere comfy last night, and, as there were no bags to sleep in/on/under, and the laundry basket was in a different place than he wanted <oh the trauma>, he was out of immediate ideas. He tried jumping onto my chair, but I was using it and shooed him off. He glared with kitty reproached, and went as far as to wag his tail at me.
|I used to be in banking, now look at me.|
He then decided to jump on Ruths chair, where he was intercepted by the queen of pain herself <Mim, not Ruth>, who bared one dainty claw and hissed gently, a sure indicator of impending bloodshed. Defeated, he slunk away to find somewhere else.
|My hat, my chair, my rules. Live with it. Or don't.|
There was a rustling from the utility room, and thinking that the black imperator had "delivered a blessing", I went to bury it, or remove it. With mounting terror I crossed the kitchen floor, and approached the pit of steeeeenk, to find the noble lord, asleepin his litter tray, like some massive hairy poop.
Cats are freaks.