She who must be punished.

Yesterday afternoon I asked Kitten Thunder if they wanted me to open a can of food for them. Heck to the yes, they replied. When they finished eating, I wonder how long it took them to notice The Boy and The Girl were gone. And so was that duffle bag Oliver had been guarding in the hallway.

When we returned this afternoon from our overnight trip to Denver for my friend Gary’s housewarming party, Oliver met us at the door. He let me pet him for about five minutes and then he disappeared. I settled down on the couch for an afternoon nap – riding in the car can be so tiring – and called for him. And called for him. And called for him.

Obi stayed in the living room with us all afternoon. I was watching Shawshank Redemption and The Boy was reading his new book. I’ve seen this movie nine million times and really want The Boy to watch it; now he’s been exposed, at least.

After the movie was over, Oliver came down for a snuggle. I’d been punished enough. And he was exhausted – laying upstairs NOT being snuggled and NOT coming to kittykittykitty was very hard work.

He’s Chief Executive Kitten. And a CEK has to do what a CEK has to do.

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7 responses to “She who must be punished.

  1. My (late lamented) cat Laptop had her own special way of welcoming me home after a trip. She was always overjoyed to be reunited with … my shoes. She’d let me pet her a little, but mostly she’d just roll around with her head in my shoes, purring up a storm. Made me feel very special.

  2. I, too get punished… mostly by nasty, chewed-up mousies being put inside whatever shoes I didn’t take with me… and of course, the barfing in my pants incident!

  3. Dashiell usually punishes me with yowling to get my attention, then a quick turn so all I see is cat ass. So subtle.

  4. ‘…and your Father smells of elderberries!’

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