I’d like to point out that I am at home with the kittens all day. I rub their bellies. I share my lunch. I hold them in my lap and let them watch the typey light box thing. Oh, and I – only I – scoop their litter boxes.
That said, The Boy was in the kitchen tonight making a grilled cheese sandwich. He’d gotten out the sliced Swiss cheese and put it on the bread. The crinkle of the Swiss cheese package brought a brown kitten running into the room. I, me, The Girl, got the shredded cheese out of the refrigerator.
I told Obi that I would give him some cheese. After all, I said, I was his favorite.
Obi yowled. Making eye contact with me, he raised a paw and pointed to The Boy. I kid you not. That little brat actually contradicted me and said that The Boy was his favorite.
He got the cheese anyway.
The Boy, trying to mend bridges, told me I was most definitely Obi’s favorite girl in the whole house.
What. Ev.
Kitten Thunder: Life lessons and cat tales 
Maybe he wasn’t pointing. Maybe he was doing that slow-motion fighting-at-a-distance thing. My cats aren’t the only ones who do that, are they?
Oh, he was pointing alright.
Oli and Obi do slow Kung Fu.