Olly (Marble, left) gives Marshall (spots, right) a bath. Whether he wants it or not.
I had a very in depth conversation with Olly, my cat this morning. Olly is a brown marble Bengal cat, with Millwood origins. Millwood being you know, the birthplace of the breed and all, he is a bit of an aristo-cat, with domineering tendencies and a panache for getting his way. I thought I’d share that conversation.
Olly: Hey mom, I know you’re busy, I know you’re sick, a-gain (had a mocking tone when he said this) and I know you have to work, take care of the terrorizer and all that. But you forgot to scoop my litter box last night, and I thought we had already gone over the rules about this…THREE times a day. Why are you having trouble understanding this? You scoop my box, and I go potty in my box. This is fair. What the hell is your problem?
Me: Sigh. Olly. Mommy’s a little busy right now. I’ll scoop your box in a little bit, but seriously, you don’t need it scooped 3 times a day. You’d be just fine with one or two times a day depending.
Olly: Right. How about this. You go scoop my box RIGHT NOW. Or I’ll be forced to climb into anything that even vaguely resembles the shape of my box, in the blatant hope of bumping up your priorities. I think we can agree you don’t want that.
Me: Olly, GO play.
Olly: I see. You’re not going to take me seriously then. (climbs into laundry basket of freshly folded clothes) Oh, look at this. My tails twitching. Am I going? Am I going?
Me: OLLY! (lifts olly out of the clothes basket to see he was indeed faking it) You naughty, naughty boy.
Olly: Oh look, your off the couch and away from your computer. What a nice time for you to stretch your legs, stretch your back, and SCOOP MY DAMN BOX.
Me: Sigh. (while scooping the damn box) You know, you are a cat. And you don’t get to tell me what to do you’re not the boss of me.
Olly: Heh. Yeah. Ok. Oooh, ooh…missed a spot…
