Young lady, we have to talk. You and The Boy were gone for years. Or at least several days. Sure, you had The Lori come and rub Obi’s belly. But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t acceptable.
So why you thought it was okay to leave the house… It baffles the mind.
And before you go on about how you just went to the garage to clean out The Boy’s car, I have one thing to say: No! Sit! Stay.
So I’m typing away at tonight’s blog, at I look up at the TV. It has a tail. A big, fluffy, Main Coon type tail. “Obi,” I say, “get out from behind the TV.”
The tail disappears. No cat here.
But then the TV grows ears. And a paw inches up toward the antennae hanging on the wall.
“OBI. GET DOWN.”
The ears and paw disappear. No cat here.
Oliver arrives from the other room and cries. Obviously, if someone is in trouble, it is him. He’s not aware of doing anything wrong, but he is always the one who gets yelled at.
The paw goes up toward the antennae again. I stand up. It’s a clear indicator that I mean business. Oliver cowers under the coffee table and whines.
“Oh. BEE.” The tail reappears. Followed by two feet up on the books next to the TV. Followed by the rest of a brown kitten. I have to clap my hands and take a step forward to get him to jump down from the mantle.
For the record, Obi is allowed on the mantle but he’s never gotten behind the TV before. He’s up there now, looking out the window. And glancing over to make sure that he’s not in trouble. Obviously he has crossed a line somewhere and needs to figure out where it was.
Oliver is snuggled hard into my side.
He’s not in trouble either, right Girl?
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.
Posted in Attempt at humor, Cats, Oh please someone think this is funny, woe is me.
Tagged cats, daily life, Denver, discipline, funny, humor, kittens, management issues, punishment, we went to IKEA