Saturday, October 14, 2006

Saturday morning mom gets up late. I try and try to remind her that feeding me (and that other cat) should be done at exactly the same time every morning! But she just groans and buries her head under the covers. After long, agonizing minutes of patiently jumping on her and knocking things off the night stand - she gets up and prepares the meagre rations she calls "brekie". She has this bizarre idea that I should share my food with less fortunate cats like the runny-eyed one-eared skinny gray excuse for a cat that shows up on the doorstep at mealtimes. I already share my food with the other cat who lives in the house - I give already - I'm a giver. When I have a chance, I sneak out the door and give that charity case the ends of my spikey paws. He always runs away because he knows who is king. That's me - King Wallingford - the giver.



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