Ingratitude, thy name is Felis Catus...

[desperance]

First I give them their breakfast, then I come upstairs to do an hour's work entirely for their benefit, for the better purchasing of kitty-litter and gushyfudz - and what do they do in the meantime?

Yes, that's right. The little beasts ambush the residue of last night's curry and eat all the chicken out of it. Snarl...

In other (and equally unsurprising) news, here's a happy review of Lace and Blade. Which thinks my story is all about the sex, which I don't at all, but hey. There's room for different readings.

Comments

[wolfinthewood.livejournal.com]

At least they can't open the fridge. Presumably. I met a cat who could, once.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

They're working on it. They have raided the fridge a couple of times, but I persuaded myself I musta left it ajar, or they'd be doing it nightly...

I knew a cat called Boris, who could open Nick's fridge when there was chicken in it. Nick put a child-lock on the fridge, next time he had chicken; Boris broke it off. Next time, Nick tried wrapping the fridge around with a cyclist's bungee-cord; Boris worked that off, too. So the next time, Nick left the chicken in the oven overnight. And woke up to chicken-bones all over the kitchen, for lo, Boris could open ovens at need...