At the wrestling field, I hear my friends’ people complain about having to leave them home all day and what trouble they get into. I can relate to that. I also like to make my feelings clear when I’m left home alone. Luckily, she brings me to work every day. I love it!
First, we make my breakfast – rice and kibble, yuck. What she eats in her bowl looks a lot tastier, but I don’t complain, some times she’s messy, and I complain even less! Then, we make coffee and go have a cigarette on the roof. I lie in the sun uninterrupted by feline occupiers, and she makes her phone calls. We hang out on the couch for a while playing scrabble, catching up on e-mail, and dealing with whatever came up during the night.
People start showing up, and they each get their own little personal party. I run to my chair where they come and greet me. I’m a real queen, I get hugs, kisses, we play tug – they never fail to compliment me on one thing or another. Yesterday, I got props for not jumping! Once the love fest is over, I can’t help but follow them around, I feel like if I ever want a raise, I should keep them updated on the status of my work, so I bring them my ropes to collect well deserved praise on my chewing progress.
Everyone has breakfast, we have another cigarette, more coffee – she’s starting to shake a little. I settle back on the couch while everyone around me gets back to their laptops. Checking the latest youtube videos, reading their favorite blogs. She settles at her desk to begin working. Just as she’s getting reacquainted with the numbers she needs to work with, it’s time for lunch.
More coffee, more cigarettes – I work hard on my tan on sunny afternoons and preheat the couches for them when its yucky outside. Everyone is respectful of my post lunch napping and joins in a concerted effort to rock me to sleep to the rhythm of their keyboards. Ever so often, I am called upon to perform my duties to some, I provide a top notch snuggle break; others prefer that I lie on my back and stretch my paws out as high as I can reach so they can call me a weirdo and obtain an office-wide poll of what a cutie patootie I am.
She starts getting restless at this point, pacing back and forth to the kitchen, trying to find a snack that’ll hit the spot. I wish I could remind her that really, she’s craving wrestling practice – it takes her a while, but although I’m still passed out on the couch, enjoying the peace and quiet, she manages to make it sound like I’m badgering her to go home. She drags me off the couch, and we’re off to the ring – my real day begins!
Monday, December 29, 2008
Sneak Attack
Lunch is my favorite part of the day at the office. We all sit on the couches and I jump from one hug to another. I try to nobly ignore the little dog whose trying to get me yelled at – more on that later. Lunch is the best time of day. I spent a lot of time observing their every move, and have come up with a fail proof modus operandi to get myself food that doesn’t taste like cardboard. The little dog has it all wrong: she jumps from one lap to another and tries the sad puppy eyes routine, but she just gets yelled at. I patented a perfect air of nonchalance that I sport while taking in the scents of the day and developing my plan.
I wait for them to clear the dishes. While they continue their discussion in the kitchen, I swiftly lick the table clean, treating my tongue to the delectable tastes of gourmet vegetarian cooking courtesy of one of the boys who comes to play with me sometimes, and secretly introduces me to exotic delicacies such as pears and cereal – I have a crush on him. What I failed to mention is that I have already savored most of the raw ingredients by convincing whomever happens to be on cooking duty that vegetable debris are much happier in my mouth than in the non existing compost bin!
My next move is technically arduous, but I have managed to pull it off on several occasions. Just so you’re oriented let me identify the whereabouts of everyone before I begin; the smokers circle is on the roof, expecting me to entertain them with a game of tug or by striking a cute pose. Meanwhile, the non-smoker is sitting on the couch with her earplugs in, catching up on the Huffington post. She is susceptible to enter the kitchen for a post lunch snack or tea at any time. I must be swift. I escort the smokers outside, and manage to eclipse myself just as the little dog does something worthy of attention.
I am inside, but must still make it safely into the kitchen. I wait for the non-smoker to start laughing, and dash in before she looks up to see if there’s anyone around to share the moment with. Today’s my lucky day – they had tacos! And they left the ingredients spread out on the cutting board, well within reach – score!
My mouth is watering with anticipation when, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of BUTTER! I have a soft spot for dairy, and butter provides for a fulfilling feast. I hesitate a fraction of a second, my eyes going from one counter to another as I carefully weigh my options. Butter is safer, but the variety of the cutting board is taunting me. I’ve been planning this for too long – I have to stick to the safe option. As I hop up to snatch the butter, I hear the smokers head towards the door.
I rush to my bed, concealing the butter between my paws. I lie on my side and pretend to snore, keeping one eye open in case I need to relocate my prize. They each regain their desks and get back to chatting, refreshing facebook and online shopping.
The coast is clear, I take in the rich smell, delicately remove the wrapper with a lick - as the salt hits my taste buds, my tail wags with excitement.
I check my surroundings one last time and dive into bliss. I’m within tongues reach when I feel my neck pulled backwards. She has that look. I cower back to my chair, tail between my legs revealing my frustration as much as my fear of being chastised. She feeds the butter to the fruit flies in the trash (what a waste), and after making sure I see THE look, settles down to snuggle.
I wait for them to clear the dishes. While they continue their discussion in the kitchen, I swiftly lick the table clean, treating my tongue to the delectable tastes of gourmet vegetarian cooking courtesy of one of the boys who comes to play with me sometimes, and secretly introduces me to exotic delicacies such as pears and cereal – I have a crush on him. What I failed to mention is that I have already savored most of the raw ingredients by convincing whomever happens to be on cooking duty that vegetable debris are much happier in my mouth than in the non existing compost bin!
My next move is technically arduous, but I have managed to pull it off on several occasions. Just so you’re oriented let me identify the whereabouts of everyone before I begin; the smokers circle is on the roof, expecting me to entertain them with a game of tug or by striking a cute pose. Meanwhile, the non-smoker is sitting on the couch with her earplugs in, catching up on the Huffington post. She is susceptible to enter the kitchen for a post lunch snack or tea at any time. I must be swift. I escort the smokers outside, and manage to eclipse myself just as the little dog does something worthy of attention.
I am inside, but must still make it safely into the kitchen. I wait for the non-smoker to start laughing, and dash in before she looks up to see if there’s anyone around to share the moment with. Today’s my lucky day – they had tacos! And they left the ingredients spread out on the cutting board, well within reach – score!
My mouth is watering with anticipation when, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of BUTTER! I have a soft spot for dairy, and butter provides for a fulfilling feast. I hesitate a fraction of a second, my eyes going from one counter to another as I carefully weigh my options. Butter is safer, but the variety of the cutting board is taunting me. I’ve been planning this for too long – I have to stick to the safe option. As I hop up to snatch the butter, I hear the smokers head towards the door.
I rush to my bed, concealing the butter between my paws. I lie on my side and pretend to snore, keeping one eye open in case I need to relocate my prize. They each regain their desks and get back to chatting, refreshing facebook and online shopping.
The coast is clear, I take in the rich smell, delicately remove the wrapper with a lick - as the salt hits my taste buds, my tail wags with excitement.
I check my surroundings one last time and dive into bliss. I’m within tongues reach when I feel my neck pulled backwards. She has that look. I cower back to my chair, tail between my legs revealing my frustration as much as my fear of being chastised. She feeds the butter to the fruit flies in the trash (what a waste), and after making sure I see THE look, settles down to snuggle.
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