2003-04-22 10:45 p.m.
The Calico As Drama Queen
So I ended up staying home sick yesterday, parking myself on the couch and only rousing myself to get water and to greet the Safeway delivery guy. (Online grocery stores with same-day delivery are the best invention ever. Though I'm kind of bummed that they didn't have Entertainment Weekly, and I'm still trying to figure out what to do with the microwave french toast that turned up in my order, I shall never want for Calistoga or kitty litter again.)
Naturally, this meant that TheCat got hours of quality lap time while I zoned out in front of the TV, sipping and snorfling and generally being an unproductive member of society. And since TheCat still hasn't gotten over TheBoy getting a job (and thus being unavailable to tend to her needs 24/7), I knew I was going to be forcibly reminded that I didn't spend all day petting her today when I got home from work today.
But what form was the reminder going to take? The Angry Ankle-Thwapping (with Claws Just A Tiny Bit Out To Remind You I Can Use Them At Any Moment) Of The Kitty Scorned? The Atonal Whine of Unimaginable Feline Suffering? The Turned Back And Contemptuous Tail Twitch of Who The Hell Are You, I Didn't Even Notice You Were Here?
TheCat decided to go with Plan D: The Soft, Cute Tummy of Irresistible Kitty With No Pointy Bits Anywhere. The back flop. The eye squeeze. The little wriggle. The claws completely retracted, because TheCat would never, ever hurt you (unless you reached for the tummy, of course). She almost went for her patented flirty little move where she covers one eye with a cocked paw, but at that point I think even she realized she was laying it on a bit thick. She darted around the apartment randomly for a while, just to show who was really in charge, and then settled down between my feet, where she's been for the last hour or so.
However, despite her bravura performance, she did not get a tiny, catnip-stuffed Oscar. Maybe next year, kitty. Maybe next year.