Her Royal Lowness…

My lap, my rules.

Athena T. Cat has a strict schedule, and woe betide the two-foots who does not learn the pattern and abide by it. This time of year, this includes opening the back door to let the sun in so she can bask in late afternoon. And in clearing lap space whenever Athena decides she wants all of your attention. She makes reading tomes and photo books a bit of a challenge.

And we are supposed to know what she wants, when she wants it. Alas, the service remains below her standards, as it always has been.

I’m sulking. Sulk, sulk, sulk.

As you can tell, her initial suspicions about the Largest-Throw-Rug-in-Texas have faded away for the most part. Even better, she discovered that by laying on that corner, between the couch and my reading chair, she controls all movement through the living room. What more could a cat want?

Tuna. And chopped, smoked ham, and treats, and more ice-water, and tuna. And ham, did I mention ham? Smoked turkey breast will suffice if I must.

Her Royal Lowness, true owner of Redquarters.

13 thoughts on “Her Royal Lowness…

  1. Cats seem to have this innate sense of the best place from which to rule. Once my new kitten got big enough to get up on the desk, she immediately plonked herself directly between 1) my eyes, and 2) the computer screen. Just like ever other feline overlord in the house.

  2. I am on a treadmill desk. It is a catless place, because there is no lap, and the desk part is high up enough & barricaded by clutter it’s not accessible by jumping. So there is a large black kitten sprawled on the floor between me and the door.

    …except when he gets bored and nudges me over so he can walk beside me on the treadmill. Because… cat?

    If I stop walking and stand on the treadmill, he’ll come up behind me and stretch up my legs to tap me on the thigh. Or Kili will come in, hiss at him, and proceed to tailwrap my ankles until I pay attention to her.

      • Obi is the unholy cross of a corgi and something very long-legged, blonde to the innards of his skull, with all this energy and no brains on how to use it. Very sweet, loveable, derp personified, who’s nonetheless aggravating as all get out. And just barely out of puppydom, so he’s got all the teenage lankiness and energy to boot.

        And a bladder the size of a pea you found after a year behind the fridge.

  3. Dogs are much better. Leave out a bowl of water, a bowl of kibble and you’re good. Of course our doggie has feed/water stations in 3 different rooms. One in the living room, one in the master bedroom and one in my office. Each location has a different edible. Plain kibble in the living room. Dental kibble in the Master BR and minibones (extra tiny milk bones) in my office. Chew bones are dispensed on request.

  4. OMG that looks familiar, and I don’t own a cat. A neighbor’s cat (Russian Blue) decided that we were her humans. Apparently, we’re the only ones who understand Her Disgruntledness. Clear the window seat for sun time. “Treats, water, kibble, scratch the ears, treats, don’t forget the chin and jawbone, and get the itch between the shoulder blades, human! BTW, this vole and the chipmunk over there are for you … oh? Well, the head is the best part of a rodent.”

    The rug pictures look remarkably similar, except this one sleeps in full rotisserie mode (self-rotating cat). Fortunately I snorted plain water, and not something more painful.

  5. This morning the kitten demonstrated her developing mastery of movement control by sitting just inside the slightly ajar bathroom door while I conducted the morning shower & shave ritual, said ritual of course requiring feline supervision. Thus none of the big cats could get in or out without paying the toll of becoming the object of a kitten play. It was amusing to see a large cat sitting about 18″ outside the door staring at the gap with the ears cocked into the “peeved” position.

    Whatever nuisances the cats bring are far outweighed by the entertainment they provide.

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