Angel, my seal point Siamese...
It seems the elderly diva of cats has decided to play a new game with her favourite human, "Let's wake her up every hour and see what she'll do."
Of course, in her world, playing involves diving at my feet beneath the covers, emerging for air, and delivering a stern, very vocal lecture regarding everything and everyone about which there is the slightest disapproval...
This includes me at the moment. At almost fifteen, after seeing yours truly journal often, she has targeted any paper or collection of pages for destruction, including notebooks, pads of paper, post-it notes, letters or cards. All now bear tooth marks, rips or the shredding only well-aimed back claws can render.
Just as I am preparing to write out a list of priorities needed in a new locale if I am to move, and doing the necessary research to determine whether they exist there, comparing housing and related costs, looking at jobs and salaries and the number of hours I can work and still get needed PT, she stalks the desk with the fearless demeanor of a tigress, sending my pages flying to the floor.
Scolding has no effect except to increase my irritation with her as she brazenly ignores warnings, dodges the small squirts of water to her face, and then stares at me as if to say, "Do as you will, I am still winning..."
Thankfully, these efforts at warfare do not yet include potty presents in strange places such as the hallway, my freshly made bed, or the sofa. We once had a tiff over a new litter box that wasn't quite the right size and thick-headed human here only came around to this cats' way of thinking after receiving several "gifts," followed by a discussion with her rather amused veterinarian.
I am left once again to guess her uniquely Siamese motives. Is she annoyed or is this some new game she has invented? Perhaps I am the strange one in her eyes...
Until Next Time...
