Cats Are Queer Articles

My kitty and me have an agreement: I keep her in tuna, and she keeps her cute little yap shut. More often than not, it is me that forgets the deal. Her favorite time to remind me of this is first thing in the morning. 

She has this uncanny ability to sense the exact moment when my consciousness hovers closest to the surface. She usually sits approximately 2 millimeters from my nose (or eyeball) and mews quietly at an ever increasing pitch until it is impossible for me to do anything but get up and rectify the situation. It feels something like this:

Although she has not used a baseball bat on me yet, I suspect she knows where she can lay her paws on one.

I was a particularly good human the other day, though, and was rewarded accordingly. I came home from work to find that the critter's food dish was empty. She was doing the usual belly-up wiggle dance to inform me of this fact. I filled the dish and waited for her to signal her approval.

She went over to the dish, gave it a cursory sniff, and when she looked up at me I could hear her thinking, "You boob!" She did an about face, marched over to the fridge, and plopped down at the edge of the door. She stared plaintively at the door and then glanced at me with a look that said, "You know the good stuff is in here, bozo."

Playing the good pet, I dutifully retrieved the open can of tuna and filled her tuna saucer. Andromeda oversaw the whole operation, and I know she must have been pleased at my speed and efficiency. Usually she scolds me for the unbearable amount of time it takes to get the fish from the can to her dish, but this time she never let out a single sound!

Am I well trained, or what?