Naughty Patches

Today was a good day. The keeper was around (unlike last weekend when she abandoned me for 3 days and two nights with only a continuous feeder and large bowl of water to keep me company) and she cleaned my litterbox. So it started out to be a good day.

Until...

Keeper was on the couch watching a movie and I kept correcting her and getting in her line of vision so she could be doing the things she was supposed to do: watch me, pet me, tell me how wonderful I am, etc. I do like to help her out when she gets off track. But today she petted my chest and felt a knot in my fur. She tried to ignore both me and it, but it obviously got to her. So she pushed a button and the sound in the room went away, and then she proceeded to the dreaded drawer with the weapons of cat destruction: brush, heinous comb, and claw clippers. She procured the dreaded heinous comb and then called me over ever so nicely. I can't believe I fell for it. She then abused me with the comb until the knot became more attached to the comb than it was to me.

This didn't used to happen. I used take better care if my fur. But I'm retired now and I thought the keeper would be my 401k plan for fur maintenance. The interest has yet to pay off as I'd hoped. This was a bad year to retire.

I would pontificate more, but it is Saturday night and keeper is at home alone. This means I put in double duty as emotional support. Keeper is so draining, I wish she'd deign to go on a date sometimes. Or watch something cheerier than Syriana. But oh well. The litterbox calls...I answer.