I really DO love my cat, I don’t have a choice

It seems that there is an agreement that has been made between me and my cat. I don’t remember any registered letters or meetings with notaries. But there are specific actions that I am expected to undertake immediately upon notification from said cat. When she meowls – yes I said Meowl – not a meow or a howl, but a meowl  – at me from the kitchen, I must stop whatever I am doing in whatever room I am doing it, and immediately fill whichever bowl has had the nerve to find itself emptied.

We have also apparently come to the conclusion that she must accompany me to the bathroom in the morning where we will simultaneously use the facilities. She will let me know when she has completed her “toilet” by vigorously attacking my feet and running figure eights along my legs until I complete her flushing as well. Once the scoop has been thus employed she inspects her area, if satisfied she wanders off to begin her day, finally leaving me to begin mine.

One would think that a simple reciprocatory gesture on the cat’s part might be expected.  For example, maybe she could turn on the percolator in the morning. Just one little paw press on the on switch would do the trick (I don’t think I’m asking a lot.)  Next maybe a couple of eggs over-easy and some toast?  Alas. No. The training, it seems, begins and ends with my obedience, while my clothes continue to be peed upon and window screens scratched to ruins. I Love My Cat.

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