What does freedom mean to you?
Anything but this:
Cat Daddy and I were lying in bed one morning, catching up on Match of the Day. Suddenly, he put down his cup of tea and said, “Nooooo!”
Me: “What’s wrong?”
Him: “Didn’t you hear it?”
Me: “What?”
Him: “The pitter-patter.”
Louis Catorze then jumped onto the bed and started screaming.
Me: “He’ll settle down soon enough.”
He didn’t. He walked up his papa’s body, bug-eyed and psychotic, headbutting Cat Daddy’s hands.
Me: “Just ignore him. He’ll soon settle down.”
Him: “That’s easy for you to say; you’re not the one getting the headbutts. Or the face. Oh God, the face.”
Me: “I’m telling you, he’ll get bored eventually.”
He didn’t.
Cat Daddy then decided that he couldn’t bear it any longer. “I can’t believe this. I’m being bullied out of my own bed!” he huffed, as he flung back the duvet, climbed out of bed and left the room.
Catorze didn’t quite achieve his aim of casting ME out of the bed so that he could have his papa all to himself, but he was still very happy to have warm space made available to him. So he settled in Cat Daddy’s spot, purring, rolling and thoroughly pleased with his efforts.
I’ve said this before and I shall say it again: we are pathetic for letting these felines treat us like dirt. And we’re doubly pathetic for knowing that it’s happening, yet doing nothing to stop it.
louiscatorze.com 
Leave a comment