I can pass her without her lip quivering, causing some of those dastardly fangs to appear.
Unless it’s dinner time – that’s always a dodgy time of day.
She‘s not as hungry either.
She doesn’t eye that woman out skeef when she replenishes my bowl during the day, like she used to.
The down side, unfortunately, is that she seems to think that her basket belongs to her and her alone now.
She occupies it all night – instead of creeping under the bed or lying with her tum on the tiles.
Nor does she have midnight sorties downstairs for widdle breaks and binges.
She just snores in her baskie the whole night through.
This means I have to either sleep on their bed, or in my own baskie.
Generally I prefer my basket for day time napping.
Am partial to snuggling between the humans at night.
Alpha is relatively considerate.
He does yoga poses in order to accommodate my own furry bod.
That woman, on the other paw, just rudely relocates me with her feet, or even her hands on occasion.
I find myself hefted to a spot on the bed that is not all warm and cozy.
Sometimes the duvet is so chilly it feels wet.
Occasionally I stay there.
Other times I have been so rudely awakened I feel the need to go downstairs and recover with a snack.
Sporadically I discover my bowl is empty.
This displeases me greatly.
I charge back upstairs and leap onto the bed, stick my nose in her face and knead whatever bits I can get hold of.
That gets her attention.
I then spring onto the headboard and stalk around, making things wobble and tinkle precariously.
Once I knocked the rusk tin down and it missed Alpha by a whisker.
By this time that woman is thoroughly awake.
She’s usually spitting mad, too, and has been known to grab me and stuff me under the first duvet.
Ralphie, she hisses, shut up and go back to sleep for an hour.
You are getting no food now.
And if you don’t like it – you can go and find another house to live in.
Puuurrrppp.
I shut up and nap for an hour.
