The cats love me. The cats know I’d rather harm myself before hurting them. And although this is splendid, it means that when I try to scare them in attempt to stop them from, say, eating the plant, they look at me and chew. James. They love James. Yesterday, over the phone for reasons that are in fact sane, James imitated a roaring crocodile. Sitka froze, and hung onto the couch with all of his toes. Taku scrammed the cat box before he was done.
I have no mommy fu.
(Originally posted January 16, 2018)