Sometimes I Really Don’t Like Cats

I have an adult, Himalayan (breed), male cat name Snowball. He is five years old. He is also, very, very, spoiled. Which means: whatever Snowball wants, Snowball gets. NOW.

So, the other night I was reading in the bedroom when Snowball enters the room. Here, I have to admit that dad doesn’t even like him on the bed in the first place. *whispers* but we try to be sneaky. Anyways, Snowball jumps on the bed to find me reading my book. Apparently, Snowball doesn’t like this very well because my attention is supposed to be on Him and not the bound stack of paper in my hands. As I read, I see out of the corner of my eye that he is sitting on the bed staring at me very intently. After several minutes of that, he decides that if that doesn’t get my attention, he knows something else will. “Mmeeooww!” I hear, and I lay the book on my stomach, staring at my child equally as intently. Then, I pick up the book and continue to read. This frustrates him even more, so he walks up to me, and places his paw on my arm. Relenting, I close my book, place it beside me, and give Snowball the attention he needs.

 

I am truly a cat person, which you will find out as I post more and more in this blog, but, sometimes, this nerdy book girl really doesn’t like cats.

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