This is Onion, and he is normally a good cat. Playfully, I call him my boyfriend. Today, though, we are having a problem.
You see, there is one rule I am not allowed to break in our relationship, and that rule is that I am supposed to lie down and spoon with him for at least ten minutes every afternoon. If I don't, there is retribution. Losing several pairs of shoes and boots to his retribution has taught me well over the years:
failure to spoon with Onion = cat urine in my footwear.
I have been busy over the last week, though, and have thoughtlessly ignored our appointed nap times. I should have clued in when he destroyed my favourite yellow sneakers on Friday:
Onion's failure to speak English is a giant barrier to our communication, though, and I am apparently not as bright as I like to think I am, which has culminated in several hours of the following tonight:
- Onion threatening me by hovering his butt over my shoes in the hall,
- doing what I call "throat yodeling", which only serves to make our neighbours think that we while away our evenings torturing small animals, and
- sneaking up beside me so he could hook his claws into my shirt, pull it through the arms of my chair, and yank all its threads out.
I'm running out of shoes, though, so I guess I'm off to spoon with my furry widdle mitten paws before I have to go barefoot.
What a jerk.