I am a terrible cat mother.
I left him at 11.30 this morning, returning at 8.30 in the evening, after a day out, a lot of driving, a quick dinner with Blarney, Barney and Barney's parents. I could have been home an hour and a half earlier, but I don't get to see Barney's folks very often, and they are, after all, family. Just as Geetangeli and Rich are family.
Walking in the door, I was greeted by a cat's bum. On running to the loo, because I'd been in the car and had drunk a cup of tea in the hour before. He was not happy.
Dinner time was at 6.00 pm. Two and a half hours is a lot of time in cat time. Especially when you're hungry. Which, when you're a cat, is most of the time.
He was fed within five minutes of walking in the door.
And he's been telling me off ever since.
I'm the worst mother in the world because I was late home.
I'm terrible because I won't let him in the spare room after dark (because he uses it like a parkour route and keeps me awake.)
He shouted at me when I was in the shower. I think that might be more because I won't open the spare room door.
He's also mugged my ankles. Just because.
He then got into a strop because I wanted to use this chair to use the computer.
And yeah, I think I'm just a bad cat mother.
Well, that's what he's telling me.
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