I think it’s a doorbell, while my cat thinks it’s a warhorn sounded by the hounds of Hell. One of us has to be wrong. I think my cat is wrong.
Recently re-covered ottoman, which cost a lot of money.
Recently re-covered thing to claw to death, and what is money?
A nifty 2.1-pound device from Black and Decker.
An end-of-the-world doomsday device dipped in poison and casually carried around the house by her owner (me), suddenly unmasked as the Deathbringer. (Only kills everything when switched on, however.)
It’s a doorbell.
A warhorn signaling her imminent death lest she make it under the bed in 2.3 seconds.
A $10 scratching tray.
$10 scratching tray PLUS an unexpectedly nice place to nap on all afternoon. I feel like the best gift giver in the world.
Some sort of rodent that has taken up residence in the bushes.
Apparently it’s a friend, since she refuses to make a proper go at it.
It’s healthy new cat food.
Hard to say. The cat won’t get within two feet of it.
As good a time as any to wake everybody up for breakfast.
A bowl of water.
Completely unacceptable. You can turn on the faucet now, thanks.
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