Thursday, March 3, 2016
Callie the Cat
I'm in the kitchen and need to go to the bathroom.
Callie: Where are you going, slave? I have need of you. Go open the door so I can use the outdoor facilities.
<Callie runs directly under my feet>
Me, stumbling into the wall: Oomph! Get OUT from under my feet!
Callie: You’re the one with only TWO feet who can’t operate them properly.
<Callie runs to the door and scratches it.>
Me: I’m coming, I’m coming.
Callie, dancing frantically at door: Move faster! There’s a blade of grass out there by the hedgerow with my name on it.
Me, opening the door: Okay, there you go.
Me: Come on now, go out.
Me: Callie, go out! You asked to go out, now GO OUT! Go THROUGH the door!
Callie, peering out and sniffing the air: There’s a dog 2 blocks away on Eigth Street.
Me, huffing: You do this every time! Don’t ask to go out if you’re not going to actually go through the door!
Callie, turning and sitting down: I changed my mind. It’s my feline prerogative.
Me, shutting the door: That’s it. I’m not going to play Doorman for you cats anymore. Grrrr!
Callie, casually licking a paw: Oh yes you will. It’s part of your job description.
I’m halfway down the hall when I hear Callie meow at the door.
Me: Seriously?? I just tried to let you out and you wouldn’t go!
Callie: I changed my mind again. It’s my feline prerog---
Me, opening the door: Now GO this time!
Callie, daintily walking her girth out the door: Don’t get huffy with *me*. Remember your place.
I close the door after her and am halfway down the hallway *again*, when I hear scratching at the door again.
Me, opening the door once more: NOW who is it??
Callie, nonchalantly sauntering into the house: Someone ate my blade of grass.