Not this again.
Not this again.
I'm sure I've blogged about this before. I KNOW I've blogged about this before. But oh my mousie mousin' mouses, I'm gonna have to blog about it at least once more.
So you all know how I have a spot, right?
No, not the spot on my adorable nose. That there spot is what we call a freckle. Of course, the peep says it's a BEAUTY MARK, but beauty mark sounds kinda girly, you know? That's why, most of the time, I just go with freckle.
And no, I'm not talkin' about that dog everyone watched while running, either. You know the one? The doggy of See Spot Run fame? No, I'm not talkin' about him, at all.
Although someone did see a spot and then run.
Okay, okay... I won't leave you in suspense any longer. The spot I'm talkin' about is the spot on the family room chesterfield, right between the two peeps. The middle cushion spot. The equidistant-between-peeps spot. The spot we all know as... MINE.
Okay, the spot I call mine. Only me. It's my spot, and mine alone.
So anyway, the other evening I was lying on my back on the family room floor, half asleep, half workin' on coming up with a title for my upcoming book, and half wondering if I was in need of a snack...
Hmmm... Methinks that may be too many halves.
Well anyway, I was lying on my back on the family room floor, when I rolled over onto my side and opened my eyes, and...
AND I LOOKED UP AT THE FAMILY ROOM COUCH, AND...
AND THERE WAS THAT RUSHY, SITTING THERE, IN MY SPOT.
He was up there sitting between the peeps, getting his floofy chest furs all combed out, looking all smug and blissfully happy, and...
Well let me tell you something, my friends, if looks could kill...
If looks could kill, I would now be an only cat.
Now don't get me wrong, I don't begrudge my long-haired freak of a brother a little quality time with the peeps. No sirree, I don't begrudge him that, at all.
What I begrudge is his gettin' that quality time while sitting in my spot. MY spot. The spot which belongs to ME.
Well I just lay there on the floor, staring up at Rushy sitting there like the cock of the walk, in my spot. He must have come into the family room, noticed the MOMENTARILY empty spot, and run right over to claim it as his own.
As his own...
As his own.
Being totally disgusted at the thought of another cat thinking MY spot was his to take, I then got up onto all four paws and stared at Rushton some more.
Stared... Glared... Whatever.
The peeps must have noticed my starin' at my brother 'cause the next thing I knew, they were both starin' at me, and...
And I heard one of 'em - Peep #1, I do believe - say something 'bout my being upset.
WELL OF COURSE I WAS UPSET. RUSHTON WAS SITTING THERE IN MY SPOT! Sitting there like he owned the spot or somethin', and...
AND IF ANYONE OWNS THAT SPOT IT IS ME!
Or should that be I?
Bottom line is, my project for today is to figure out a way to mark that spot as my own. So I'm takin' a poll, my friends. Yup, I'm takin' a poll. A poll in which you can all participate in, if you like. Should I write my name in Magic Marker on the middle cushion on that there chesterfield? Or should I just use the time honoured, traditional method of SPRAYING? What do you think? Enquiring minds wanna know.
FYI, I don't have a Magic Marker on paw.