Mao well lives up to his name.
Mao, I wanna go out.
I let him out the back stairs.
Mao, he whines, less than a
minute later, I wanna come in. It
is cold on the back stairs. Besides,
there are no mice, nor anything to play with.
Mao, he whines, five minutes later,
I wanna stand at the screen door, to look at the birds.
I let him stand at the screen door
.
Mao, he whines, my claws are stuck. Help me, Momma.
I remove his claws from the screen door.
Mao, I wanna go to the basement, to see
if mice are STILL not there.
I don't let him go to the basement.
It is my turn to whine. I retire to the computer.
Mao, he whines, I am lonely. I will join you at the computer.
He jumps on the keyboard, presses delete,
whaps my face with his tail and offers me a less than commendable view of his hiney.
I whine, Off! Bad cat!
Mao stares at the water bowl.
It is full, but he wants cold water.
I indulge him this whim. He laps noisily, like a dog.
I return to the computer.
Mao does not whine. He must be up to something.
I make a fresh pot of coffee.
Mao! You ate the freesia! Bad cat!
He so gingerly stepped around the cloves I'd placed around the vase.
Cloves wards off cats like garlic to vampires.
I chase him from the kitchen.
I'm ready for a nap, having put in a hard morning cat minding.
I climb into the down comforter, pull it up to my neck.
Mao steals into the room on little cat feet and silently
climbs in with me, purring.
Good cat. You ate the freesia, but saved the dried roses for me.
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