I feed them, scratch them, nap with them, walk with them, worry about them and when I walk in the door after a hard day, they are there with airplane propellar tails, adoration in their eyes. (Oh Yeah, they love me but do they respect me?)
I may think I'm the head honcho but I'm really under no illusion at all...
When SM speaks we all listen.
The dogs line up to do his bidding with a softly spoken word. (I have to use food as bribes.)
SM snaps his fingers and puppies fall all over themselves...."What can I do for you, Sir?" (Not only does the "snapping" not work for me, I often get the "Huh, what do you want" look from the pups after yelling my fool head off.)
When I try to explain to SM that I've come to realize just who the Boss is around here and "It ain't me"...He laughs and says...
"No, it ain't you...It's Him." Pointing at the cat.
KiKi?
Oh, yes my friends...Kiki. (Jersery Shore may have "The Situation" but we have "The Wee". And SM is right. He is the Boss.)
We all jump to do his bidding. "Meow" I'm hungry. "Meow" as he softly pads across the floor inviting his own personal escort of dogs to come running and help him out the door.
At the window? Come on in. Want some water out of the bathroom sink? Here ya go. Oh! You don't like the water in that sink? Lets try another.
And what is with his butt? With his tail held high he strolls along with puppies attached to his rear end sniffing like he's got sirlon steak in there!
It smells that good?
Last night was a good reminder of "why" he's the Boss. For whatever reason, 3am was my wake up call.
"Meow!"
I shoot up out of a dead sleep.
"Meow!"...
"Bastard..." I think, hustling to get up before SM wakes up. I stumble to the bedroom door.
There he his, laying on his side like he's bored. I take one more step closer...and he's off jogging down the hallway...And now the dogs hear him...12 little feet come running through the house like it's the Kentucky Derby.
"BASTARDS!!!" I whisper at the whole crew. Now tails are whipping and pups are jumping up and down. I've lost sight of the freaking cat.
"Ok...Ok! Lets get a snacky." Everyone troops off to the kitchen for a treat. Then a potty break...I step outside... beautiful stars, cool breeze. "Uh, Oh" They see a bunny! Puppy run!
By the time everyone gets back into the house, I'm wide awake. And as I sit down to do some computer blogging/reading, I realize that I've completely
forgotten about the cat. And he's gone. Nowhere in the house at all. I don't see him again for another 4 hours.
Are you kidding me? What kind of sick perverted game is this? He's the one who started all this!!
Yep...SM is right. KiKi's the boss around here alright. Who is the "King" in your house?
(I had to include in this post the "Cat Diary/Manifesto". It's an oldie but a goodie and if you don't own a cat, please understand that every word of this is true. This is how they think...)
DAY 659 My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from ruining the occasional piece of furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant.
DAY 662 Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded, must try this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair... must try this on their bed.
DAY 669 Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was... Hmmm Not working according to plan.
DAY 681 Slept all day so that I could annoy my captors with sleep depriving, incessant pleas for food at ungodly hours of the night.
DAY 688 I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For no good reason I was chosen for the water torture. This time however it included a burning foamy chemical called "shampoo." What sick minds could invent such a liquid? My only consolation is the piece of thumb still stuck between my teeth.
DAY 690 There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise and smell the foul odor of the glass tubes they call "beer." More importantly I overheard that my confinement was due to MY power of "allergies." Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.
DAY 699 I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and may be snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit. The Bird on the other hand has got to be an informant. He has mastered their frightful tongue something akin to mole speak) and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room his safety is assured. But I can wait, it is only a matter of time.
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