So the other day...
So the other day, I was lyin' on the family room chesterfield when Peep #1 entered the room, looked over at where I was lyin', and let out a big sigh. I opened one eye and gave her a look. Surely she wasn't thinking of disturbing me.
The peep walked over to the couch and pushed one of my front paws toward me - the paw I had stretched right across the cushion - and then proceeded to sit down on the cushion's edge. Realising it probably had to be pretty uncomfortable sittin' perched on the edge like that, I...
I closed my eyes before goin' back to sleep.
I mean, I closed my eyes and ATTEMPTED to go back to sleep. Sleepin' is kinda difficult to do when your peeps are babbling on about nonsense and stuff within earshot, you see.
"Stretched out like that, he takes up two full cushions," I heard the first peep say.
"Two cushions, less a quarter," said Peep #2.
"How kind of him to leave me this little tiny spot," Peepers murmured as she squirmed about, tryin' to make herself comfy on the cushion's edge, all the while giggling the cushion and disturbing my sleep.
And there it was:
You ever have to deal with peeps like that, my friends? You ever have to deal with whiny ol' peeps? Peeps who whine as often as a... Uh... Um... As often as a cat twitches his whiskers?
I opened one eye, then opened the other. SURELY she wasn't thinkin' I should get myself up.
Noticing a strange look cross her face, I briefly entertained the thought of gettin' to my paws and movin' so that I was occupying only the centre cushion, leaving a FULL couch cushion for the peep, which would probably be more comfortable.
Then I thought better of it. For although my repositioning myself so that I occupied only the one cushion might be more comfortable for Peepers...
It most certainly would NOT be more comfortable for me.
And that's when it happened.
That's when ol' Peepers got up from the couch. I thought she was gonna go find somethin' to do in some other room, but no. Instead, she sat herself down, right there on the floor.
You know, on account of sittin' on the floor bein' more comfortable than bein' half perched upon the edge of a cushion with the frame of the chesterfield diggin' into your butt.
Or so I guess.
I stretched out my front paw - the one the peep had so rudely moved before sitting down, earlier - and smiled to myself. All was right with the world, once again. I, Seville the Cat, was resting comfortably on the couch, and the peep was where she belonged.
On the floor.
"Isn't it thoughtful of him to leave me the floor?" I heard the first peep say.
"Until he decides HE wants to lie down there, and demands that you move," said Peep #2.
The peep shook her head, knowin' in her heart, the second peep was right. For in MY house, a cat gets to sit wherever he likes. And the peeps...
And the peeps....
AND THE PEEPS NEED TO LEARN TO ADJUST.
Yepper, that's pretty much the way it is here too Seville!ReplyDelete
And as it SHOULD be. purrsDelete
Yes, indeed, Sivvers. The peeps here have learned to adjust, too!ReplyDelete
EXCELLENT news. purrsDelete
That was sweet of the peep to let you keep your spot :)And how nice of you to let her have the whole floor to herself.ReplyDelete
That's what I thought too! 'Bout my leaving her the ENTIRE floor, I mean. After all, the floor is bigger than the chesterfield. PURRSDelete
Ha, my human has no guilt about actually MOVING ME when she wants a spot! I chalk it up to bad breeding.ReplyDelete
Bad breeding, indeed! My mouses, Summer, you have one very naughty peep. purrsDelete
Sure as heck sounds right to me, and it works that way here too. I even got the peep a cushion to sit on whilst down on the cold dankand dusty floor. OK it isnt dank and only a tad dusty—between cleaning days— but sure is cold, which is why I dont lay there ;)ReplyDelete
Of COURSE you don't lie on the floor. Floors are for peeps. We cats prefer seats. purrsDelete
Sounds like sour grapes to me, Seville! First come, first served!ReplyDelete
That's what I say. I get to the couch first, it's MINE. Of course, it's mine even if I get there last, too. purrsReplyDelete
With our couch it is who is furst is the couch person, uh, cat. Our Dad has a disturbing habit of hovering his big (well its not really) Butt over us and sloooowly lowring until we move. Not right I meow not right at allReplyDelete
He lowers his butt... MOUSES! No, that doesn't sound right at all. Again I must say, MOUSES!Delete