The cat is sleeping on my foot again. Make him quit.
He weighs about 15 pounds. I’m pretty sure you can get him off your foot all by yourself.
He’s snoring. I can’t read when he snores.
It isn’t that loud.
It’s like thunder.
You can barely hear it.
Quiet thunder.
Put him on the floor and he’ll go sleep in his bed.
He’ll give me a dirty look and squeak at me.
Oh, the horror.
Why does my life have to be so hard?
I’m surprised you haven’t signed up for Death With Dignity.
It’s because I am a brave little soldier, even though I have a cramp in my foot. Ow, Kitty. Get off!
He squeaked at you, didn’t he?
Yes. I couldn’t help it. I had a cramp. I had to move my leg.
Did he get down?
No, he’s waiting for me to tuck my feet back up on the couch again.
A cat of great patience.
He’s annoying as fuck.
He loves you.
He doesn’t either. He just loves the afghan I have on my lap.
His $200 hand knitted merino wool cat rug?
It was supposed to be mine. It was awfully pretty when I made it.
Yes it was.
Stupid cat.