For the past three days, I have been flat on my back with a terrible cold. Normally, Thimble Cat doesn’t roam the house. Ever. He comes in, plops on his chair, gets up again after a while and goes outside. No amount of coaxing can get him to explore the house. The last couple of days, however…
From somewhere in the house: Meow? (Hello?)
Mumbling from the bedroom: Hey, Blue.
Peeking around the bedroom door: Meow. (Oh, you’re still alive.)
Still peeking around the bedroom door: Meow! (Feed me!)
Mumbling from the bed: I’m getting up to brush and feed you now.
If I don’t throw the covers back and get my sorry carcass moving in 2 seconds flat: Meow!! (Move it, pathetic human!!)
We’ve had this delightful and heart warming conversation twice a day for the past three days.
If I keeled over and kicked the bucket, Thimble Cat would just have this to say: Meow! Meow? (Son of a ****! Who’s going to feed me now?)
No sympathy in this house, I tell you.
Till next time,