I'll tell you something about my cat, that he was a lot more obedient as a stray. Now that he has a home and all that jazz, he's turned into a brat, but the cutest little furry brat ever. Colour me enslaved, my darling but this hazardous little bastard has me strung like a puppet.
An automatic dispensing machine for food won't give him the satisfaction of waking up his folks at odd hours, neither does it come with the added love of having food prepared for him, which I do, by calculated mixing of tuna and his regular cat food.
Given the cooling circumstances, he doesn't bother with exiting the warm Domus premises, preferring to jaunt about the house or balcony but by the gods, a bloody nocturnal that he is, his activity buttons only start operating post-midnight and about having him adjust his timings to ours, well, it's impossible.
If he has to sleep and I keep him from sleeping, he'll suddenly vanish into ethereal furs and get lost amongst some crevices in the house that sees no human activity and only emerge after his delicious catnap. He has his hideouts within this house that I'm not even aware of.
It's a cat thing.
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many thanks for the warm appraisals on the new story. Nothing pimps my inner Vibgyor than your kind words.
hearts aplenty.
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