You know, watching those dogs eat the turkey in “A Christmas Story” reminds me of all those times that pets I’ve have had have gotten into something of mine. I’d always thought child-proofing a house was the piece de resistance of great housekeeping, but, I swear, dog-proofing is just as challenging.
I knew someone, too, who had a house bitten to smitherines by a squirrel that had gotten inside and couldn’t get out. The people were on vacation. I guess the furniture & curtains were strewn all over in pieces.
A friend knows someone that fed a rat who lived under his sink in his apartment. As in until the rat died. I guess they had an ‘understanding.’ I would not be so understanding myself.
I gave up. I got this cat won’t leave me alone if we are eating. She just wants to be part of the pride.
Doesn’t matter if she just ate, I have to put something in her bowl. Chicken or fish, cleaned of spices and the chicken skin. Beef sometimes.
Dang thing still won’t jump up on my lap so I can pet her without bending over. If I pick her up she gets very antsy and when I put down she lets out this weird but cute girl cat sound and starts walking against my leg or throws herself on the ground just a begging for some petting.
Poor thing. I tell I will sew thumbs on her so she can get a job that pays well enough for to buy whatever she wants.
She lets me know in not so subtle ways she ain’t having any of that and she is the princess around here. “Now get me my stuff and scratch my ears, peasant”.
“Yes ma’am” I say with all fealty.