So, by now anyone and everyone, including my neighbors…since they’re well within earshot, should know that the “ne’er-do-well” is not supposed to touch my stuff. I mean, really. How hard is that to understand? I don’t think I’m being unreasonable. She has her toys. She has the rest of the house. She has all manner of things to keep her occupied. Why, I ask? WHY, why, why must she insist on touching my things with her nasty, ne’er-do-well, adorable, precious little paws? And she doesn’t even try to hide it. She does it right in front of me. Or at least, she maintains her breaking the rules position when I come back in the room after having left for only a few minutes. It’s a conspiracy…I just know it is.
I gave her a stern talking to, I’ll have you know. Don’t you see the obvious fear in her eyes as she gazes up at me when I’m telling her off? The utter terror at being caught in a “you know that’s not allowed” predicament? No? Yeah, well, I don’t either. That’s because pure evil isn’t afraid of anything. Anything, I tell you.