Pecking Order

I had one of those days where a lot of people were lucky I wasn’t packing my spork. Because so many foreheads needed sporking. Spork spork spork (this is awesome if read with Psycho sound effects).

So when I got home tonight, it was fairly easy for Obi to convince me to put off my more work to do in favor of a kitten snuggle. The brown kitten kneaded and purred and offered a head for scritching. When The Boy got home, I lost my snuggle buddy.

Soon to be replaced by a grey kitten. Oliver, too, had a hard day. My eight hour absence was the least of his problems. But that’s another post. What is important, now, is that we had each other. And it was snuggle time.

After an hour or so, The Boy decided to cook spaghetti for dinner. He cooked it all by himself because a) it doesn’t take two people to make spaghetti and b) hello, snuggling. So all was fine. But then dinner was ready.

The Boy came out to inform us that it was time to eat. Oliver fixed him with as steady gaze. Serve me, Boy, by serving The Girl.

The Boy set up TV trays and told Oliver I needed to get up. Serve me, Boy, by serving The Girl.

The Boy scooped his own spaghetti and sat down to eat. He got a hard glare from the grey kitten. Then a sigh. Oliver got up, stretched, and jumped to the floor. I went to get my dinner.

Oliver. Obi. Girl. Boy. Is this pecking order really that hard to understand?

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