September 24th 2004 9:24 am
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The basement is a Loooonngggg walk. For some reason the "owners" (in cat language the same word is servant or perhaps slave) have seen fit to put my bowl down the stairs and on cold, hard concrete.
The reason for this is clear.
I used to live in a dog-free environment. However, when the first mutt arrived it stole my food (I eat slowly, like a proper lady) and then had runny poo all over. So my food was hidden away behind a door and the owners cut a hole in the door that I can get through.
Damned dogs. So in the morning or evenings I set up a yowling about food. It's no so much about the food as it is about the unfairness of being forced from my warm place on the bed near the window to eat food in the uncivilized conditions of the basement laundry room. Really now, I came first, why aren't the dogs eating in the laundry room and my food brought upstairs to the bed where I like to sleep? Bed and breakfast for ladies of refinement...
Then there's the fact that these dogs like to sniff me...and the first one likes to lick me like I am a kitten (ick...and I am most certainly NOT a kitten). Of course these dogs like to stare at me and talk amongst themselves about having a 'herding feeling'. This is sometimes followed by them trying to control my movements and usually ends with my claws planted in their soft little noses. Barbarians, crude, stinking barbarians.
Hmmm, where's my food? Servant!!! Chop chop! Yooooowwwrrrrrr!!!!
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