September 9, 2005

Here's the thing about Natasha

So here it is: she just doesn't make her own plans for the day.

Her plan is... "Where's Mommy? I must sit next to her."

"Mommy is getting up to go to the bathroom? I will follow."

"Oh, the kitchen! Maybe Mommy will get me a snack. No? Okay, then a part of my body must me touching a part of her body. Sit, Mom, I need a lap!"

And occasionally...

"Oh the fat cat is still lurking. I will attack her!"

And then Snooper's all...

"Come and GET me then, you smelly twit-bean!" (Writhing on the floor ensues.)

And then Natasha's all, "You're going down, Furball!"

And then there's running and meowing and barking and sliding into walls and crashes and things falling off of shelves and desks and tables.

And then Snooper stares at her half-full food bowl and stares at me like, "Feed me, biatch!" And I feed her and retreat to whatever I was doing and Natasha's all:

"Where's mommy? I must sit next to her."

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