What I like about weekends:

No alarm clock.  I can sleep in.   Wrong.  The cats wake up at 5am and pounce on the bed, crying in my ears.

No schedule.   I can do what I like.  Wrong.  The cats need food.  I have to go shopping.

I can relax.  Wrong.  The cats eat, throw up and guess who has to clean up and do more laundry.

Ah yes, I can take a nap.  Wrong.  Both cats are in the bed.  And they each open one eye and dare me to move them.

I love to snack.  How about some shrimp?  Oh no!  Shrimp is the cats’ favorite.  4 eyes staring at me, until the shrimp is gone.

Time to kick back and play games on the computer.  Wrong.  The cats need to go out, and come in and go out, and come in.

I get out old photos.  It is fun to reminisce.  Wrong.  The cats jump on the photos and make a nest.

Ok.  A little TV.  Geez, I have to pee. The cats are on my lap.  I try to move.  The claws come out.

I guess the cats need some attention.  How about some nail cutting, kitties?  They see the cutter and they disappear. Where in the heck do they go?

Those cats have so many toys, it is ridiculous.  I shake one, it rings a bell, they come running.  I throw it, and they sit by it, waiting for it to move.  There are 40 toys on the floor.  They find a paper bag and play hide and seek in that.  Why did I buy those toys?

A mouse is in the house.  They sit for hours, stalking it.  It finally comes out and they play with it.  The mouse dies from exhaustion.

It’s time for a treat.  Come on kitties, here is your treat.  They pretend they don’t see it.  I put more out.  They ignore it.  I walk away.  They eat every one of them.

I need a beer.  I put my hand in the box.  I pull out a cat.

I am thinking about my weekends.  Are they really mine?  I asked the cats.  They ignored me, until I started to walk away and then they swatted me.

 

 

Wolf

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One thought on “Do I own cats? Or do they own me?

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