Obi has had it with his people. He is offering himself up to anyone willing to serve him without inventing a bunch of stupid rules that ruin his life.
It started last night when the brown kitten tossed his tuna in the hallway. He came by the chair to get some ear kisses from The Girl, kneaded The Boy on the couch, and went over to the loveseat to nap. Then he started coughing and gagging.
The Boy said: “Don’t toss your tuna on the furniture!”
This afternoon, I planted bulbs in the garden and brought our basil and parsley inside. I also bought some Venus flytraps to eat whatever else came inside with the pots.
The Boy and I were discussing how long it would take for the kittehs to start chewing on the plants. We have big plants so it won’t matter at all that they do – I’d already checked to make sure they were safe. Obi arrived. He jumped on the table and immediately climbed into the parsley pot.
The Girl said: “You can’t lay in the pots!”
Ten minutes later, I was cleaning the main floor bathroom. Obi came along and jumped to the back of the toilet. He used the toilet seat, covered in cleanser, as a step. “NoNoNo!” I said. I asked The Boy, who had dry hands, to remove the brown kitten.
The Boy muttered something to Obi about not needing his help to scrub toilets.
The Girl said: “No kitten paws in the chemicals.”
These are all new rules. Obi finds them ridiculous.
Is he right or is he right?
Last week, I took care of The Three.
Gabe was watching from the front window when I grabbed the paper. He turned his head to watch for me to go around back. I tapped on the glass to get his attention. He gave me a very definite, “stop messing around and get me my breakfast” look.
Jenny and I played with her pink ribbon. Shortly after this, she grabbed it and ran to the living room where I draped it over Gabe and they played together.
Gus wanted nothing to do with the playing. Just watching was thirsty work.