Okay, maybe 'sentient' would be a better word than 'self-aware', but
I still stand behind the statement.
On their terms.
When mine shows you his belly, don't believe it. It's bait!
Only if you're a cheeken and give up too easy. I call their bluff
if they try using claws - they get their paw slapped and a "No!"
If I start with the belly rubbins I'm going to keep doing it, and
they're going to damn well stop complaining and just sit there and
enjoy it. And it never fails, thirty seconds later they're purring
loud enough for CalTech to pick it up on the seismographs...
The cats are the masters... we are at their beckon call! :-]
Dogs have masters; cats have staff.
Oh youbetcha!
--<< Bruce >>--
You never met my twenty pound "George Orr" cat. He was an effective
dreamer.
If you violated the authorized belly rule, you may just be pulling back
a bloody stump!
I have a picture of him next to a stack of albums, and he dwarfs them!
We would comb fur out of him, make fur balls big enough to make another
cat, and we attacked them viciously!
If we placed a tiny plastic army man in his water dish, however, he
would "save his life" by reaching in with his paw, and scooping him out
from underneath in a very delicate manner, then sniffing at it along side
the dish to check for life signs.
George Orr was a cool cat! Sad that he is now in kitty heaven... sad
for me... I am sure he is fine.
He used to be able to jump all the way up on the frige, but he quit
doing it when his enormity got to be so much that his paws hurt on his
"return to earth". We think he was trying to achieve escape velocity.
Nope... one did NOT force one's way into the furry softness that was
"Authorized Belly". It was a rare treat, and encroachment was cause for
lacerations!
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