A pure black cat has a distinct advantage in a game of hide-n-seek.
Will the human servant ever get the ratio of ear scratches and belly rubs just right or must I bite them again today…
Me: *resignedly* Why is the cat on the fridge… again?
Sarah: She likes to be tall.
The ne’er-do-well has a blanket fort and I’m not invited. That tells you all you need to know about the hierarchy in my house.
I don’t want to incriminate myself, but as someone of the feline persuasion, I can’t help but brag that this human is only here by the grace of… well, me. She doesn’t realize it yet, but she was thiisss close to, ahem, you know. But if she weren’t here, who would open the cans of tuna I so dearly love for snack time? Damn it all to hell. I tell you what though… as soon as I figure out the can opener, this servant is history. Hisssstory, I tell you!
Feeling cute. Might bite somebody later. I don’t know.
Maybe she’s born with it… maybe it’s meowbelline. She’s definitely out of patience.