Proof that hypnotism doesn't work.
They feed me the same time every day: as soon as they wake. They know the drill. No matter how bleary they might be, the food and water must appear in my bowls at daybreak.
But today. They drank coffee, sitting on the couch. What the hell. Forgot to feed me. Forgot to feed me.
I sat on the living room carpet, facing them in their self-absorbed conversational couch reverie. I rested my front haunches on Karl Rove, my captured catnip mouse (the red one).
I stared at Shelly, probed the deep recesses of her eyes. Hey, you forgot to feed me. Visualized, for her, food pellets dropping into my dish from the bag they keep in the cupboard. Hey, you forgot. Oh my fucking God, at least turn on the bathtub spigot.
They feed me the same time every day: as soon as they wake. They know the drill. No matter how bleary they might be, the food and water must appear in my bowls at daybreak.But today. They drank coffee, sitting on the couch. What the hell. Forgot to feed me. Forgot to feed me.
I sat on the living room carpet, facing them in their self-absorbed conversational couch reverie. I rested my front haunches on Karl Rove, my captured catnip mouse (the red one).
I stared at Shelly, probed the deep recesses of her eyes. Hey, you forgot to feed me. Visualized, for her, food pellets dropping into my dish from the bag they keep in the cupboard. Hey, you forgot. Oh my fucking God, at least turn on the bathtub spigot.
posted by Shimmy at 9:39 AM
1 Comments:
Shimmy, you are a deep thinker. You have by far the best pet blog I've ever read. I am president of your Evanston Fan Club; Greta, my Vice President in charge of Spider Eating, would like to bite you for good luck. I only hope your people know how lucky they are to own a cat that makes Garfield look like a pussy. Go Marx!
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