That's how they should be labelled especially this black and white tyrant.
She sits on my knee between 8.30 and 10.30 so reading or knitting or crochet is out of the question.
She likes to have food in the dish at all times even if she doesn't eat it immediately. I've made allowances for this because of the upheaval of leaving mum's house.
I sit and break up whiskettes in a mortor and pestle because she only has four teeth left.
She likes to go out the front door and in the back door but at night she likes the light on.
She can spray crystal kitty litter 360 degrees. It's not so bad now that I've moved it more into the laundry and instead of ending up in the lounge, it just hits the laundry wall. Standing on crystal litter in bare feet in a dark kitchen makes for a lot of swearing.
She likes one last stroll outside before settling down for the night but the stroll is at midnight and it doesn't matter if I've turned off the light and settled down for the night.
She likes to go out at first light, fine in summer but now, re-training in progress.
It didn't work this morning. Caterwauling in old worn out moggie voice which is like running a saw across violin strings. Staggered up to open door, bashed leg on blanket box, lose balance and do several pirrouettes across bedroom floor before crashing into door.
Sobbing, swearing, groaning and snivelling, I opened the back door, made it go out (likes the front door) and said if it came near me again, it was dead.
Reawakened at 9.30 by eyes boring into my brain but not a sound, silent communication.
This would all be bearable if the beast didn't crawl all over the BrickOutHouse when he calls in to pat her and tell her how much he's missing his baby. You can almost see the vibes while she's trying to tell him how vile I am to live with, well snap you little rotter.