Feline Frustration

Feline Frustration

How long have these humans known me?  Why can’t they grasp the simple premise that I want something and it’s clear to me, so why don’t they understand when I tell them? 

I’m cold so I tell them to put the heating on; I’m hungry so I tell them I want food; I want to be left alone so why do they insist on “aww is kitty-witty wanting a widdle fuss!”  Oh for goodness sake! Don’t they have my feline instincts?  Don’t they know by now what I want and that I want it NOW?

That T S Elliot understood.  If I can’t decide which side of the door to be on they should know that.  Why is it that they continue to annoy me when thirty seconds of affection is quite enough and I have to hiss or nip the hand that feeds me to get the message across.  Then they sulk and say “ Oh well if you’re going to be like that…!”

We first met twelve years ago.  My ego had been severely dented when cast aside by the lady I lived with.  Her boyfriend simply could not grasp the basic concept of me being first, last and in the middle.  So I was unceremoniously dumped in a rescue centre.  My new staff members appeared one day and I immediately thought “Ah! This lot will do.  I leapt onto the shoulders of one of them and began to mark him with my pheromones.  That’s when I heard the first ‘Awww’   Oh for a translator! 

Now if you’ll excuse me I’ve got humans to train.