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. 



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