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Tasha's Tails

September 16, 2004

I heard it last night. The melodic sound of a can popping open. (Whatever happened to can openers? I hear it once in awhile but it's never for me). Anyhow, I heard a can pop open. We all ran into the kitchen and found mom dishing us out canned food.

I pushed my siblings out of the way so I could get the first bite of the tasty morsels. She took forever with dishing out our food. I meowed until I was horse. I even got up on two lets and leaned against the counter. Well, finally mom served us the special treat. I gobbled it down in record time. Chole, as usual, didn't even finish hers. So, after she left I went to her dish and did her the favor of cleaning up her dish (she's a lightweight).

After having a full belly, dad got out the brush. I ran up to him and presented myself for my brushing. Those bristles get through my thick fur and scratch my back. I didn't want dad to stop. At one point he tried to stop, but I scratched at him with a horse meow. Dad's a sucker and gave in for a couple more minutes.

September 15, 2004

Food. I want food. I don't care if the bowl is filled. I want the food that's in the bag. I'll scratch at the bag. Mom and dad will surely know that I want that food. Not the food in the bowl. The food in the bowl had been drolled on my my brother and sisters. I want my own food. I want the food in the bag. I think I will go and scratch the bag some more. My claws should be able to puncture it. Then I'll have all the food to myself.

Clean, un-drooled on food. Boy, I'm hungry.