This is Max. He's hungry.
Don't be fooled by the apparent lassitude. He's a ninja. Any attempt to approach the kitchen must be done in company of Max. Any attempt to use the chopping board and knives invariably produces the heavy-lidded gaze and tail-twitching behaviour designed to induce teeny birdies to come down and play… Any attempt to ignore him while cutting up meat results in Max using my leg as a climbing post. (Luckily, I mostly wear jeans, and he's learnt, through prodigious applications of water spray, to play gentle.)
Well, this weekend, I relented. I did the unthinkable, and provided a full bowl of dry food. An unemptiable bowl of dry food. Max can snack at will. Max is no longer entirely dependent upon me for meals. (Max's expression as I ladled scoop after scoop of dry food into this enormous bowl was a study of excitement turning to slow-dawning horror.)
Maximus Stomachus has spent the past 36 hours gorging snacking. In between snacks, he trudges around the house with a mournful air, a fierce craving for water, and a distended stomach. Maximus Stomachus is not a quick learner.
I, however, have now had two entire nights of uninterrupted sleep. I am delirious, I am drunk, with sleep. I am ridiculously enthusiastic over trivial matters. I am hoping Maximus Gluttonus learns not to gorge so that this arrangement can continue, and I can sleep the blessed sleep of those who have not procreated.
4 thoughts on “i relent, i repent, the kitteh is supreme”
Argh! What? He looks EVILLE! I keep assuming he's a cute adorable twit, and then you post pictures and he's EVILLE.
Oh, he's adorable. He's cute. He's also definitely, no question about it, quite evil.
You know what he looks like there? A James Bond villian. Really! Your cat is awesome.
JUST BECAUSE I AM NOT IN THE COUNTRY DOES NOT MEAN IAM NOT WATCHING.
Update. 4 srs.
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