I was given a guilt trip when I left for work this morning. Cats, they know when you're going to go into the office for the day. They're going to wrap around your legs, demand treats, stare at you while you're in the shower... you name it they will pile on the ire, trying their best to make your feel guilty. It works, even if I do try and explain to the beast that I'm going to work so I can pay for his food.
This is what was poured on me this morning. Lucifer is king of the guilt trip.
Then, on arriving back home this evening, I was greeted with disdain. I'd offered to drive a colleague home, as they're on a train line which is out of action - and they're a friend - it's what you do. Also, I'd contacted Bernie and Gaz, who live a few streets away from my colleague, said I'd be in the area and were they up for a visit. All good. It killed two birds with one stone.
So, my colleague and I got to mine, I fed Lucifer, because I'm a good cat mother. Of course, he was rather perterbed about another person being in the flat, even if was for the five minutes it took to lay out a packet of Whiskas for him.
My colleague was deposited home. I made my way to Bernie and Gaz's place a few streets away, where I was treated to dinner with the family - which was lovely.
And I was also treated to masses of cuddled from their Jack Russell Terrier, Piper. Loads of cuddles and licks. She's a tripper.
And I've come home smelling like a Jack Russell.
Something they don't tell you about cats. They're jealous little critters.
I've been home an hour. Normally, when I get home from work, or just being out, I'll be greeted with a big smooch and a cuddle.
Tonight - nothing. I'm being ignored. I've been sniffed over, but not greeted. Treats have been demanded, but then ignored.
I think you can say that I'm in the doghouse.
I'm wondering if he's decamp to the couch tonight instead of sleeping between my knees like he normally does.
It's not my fault Bernie and Gaz's dog is similar to Eddie on Frasier - there is no getting around her.
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