These are a Few of My (Cat's) Favorite Things

When I was in Colorado this summer, a guy on a talk radio show said "there are two types of people in the world: those who want to be left alone and those who just won't leave you alone." My cat is definitely of the "just leave me alone" stripe. (Cats are people too, you know.) Sometimes we won't see her all day except for the brief moments that she graces us with her presence to eat or poop.

There are a few things that will bring her out of seclusion without fail. One is the Daddy coming home. She likes him best. Another is her kitty treats. Have you seen the kitty treat commercial where a girl at an office tells a guy at the office, "I like your boots." He says, "They're not boots. They're my cats." That's Frankie. Once you shake 'em, you can't shake 'er.

Another sure-fire way to get Frankie's attention is doing laundry. Specifically, washing the sheets. It's not the doing of the laundry, it's the making of the bed. As soon as the fitted sheet comes out, she comes running. Every time. She likes to be sandwiched under the fitted sheet. Thinking about it gives me claustrophobic hyperventilation, but she likes it.

 Of course, what the cat does, Nicco does.

It's an alternate species Monkey-See, Monkey Do.

Her Royal Feline Highness cries near-death howls if there are mere crumbs in her food bowl at any given time. For some reason my fat and pampered housecat thinks she is near starved and thirsted to death in our house. Every time I walk toward my bathroom she comes running and jumps up to the sink. She looks at me expectantly. She wants a small puddle of water to drink. If she could put her hands on her hips and tap her foot, I'm sure she would.

At the end of the day, she finds her purr-fect snuggle-up spot.  Not in the small of my back or the crook of my neck or my soft and warm lap like every other cat ever.

She prefers the cold porcelain of the bathroom sink. Fitting.