We are not amused
There’s an irritated cat sitting next to me.
I didn’t call her to me. She came voluntarily, traipsing all over my computer keyboard and causing it to make odd noises and flash unfamiliar screens at me. She seems totally unconcerned that my laptop is about to explode and that things are falling off my desk as she sashays back and forth across it in front of me.
This is the common evening behavior of HRH Queen Fancypants. Or it was, until the GrandSparks and the Lolly-headed Dog showed up. Though she was by far the most tolerant of the cats, she stopped coming by for her nightly visits. Now that they’ve gone, it appears that her majesty will be resuming her rounds.
So I did tonight what I used to do: I grabbed the Furminator and began removing large amounts of fur and fuzz from the Fancy. The Ragdoll breed does not lack for hair, that’s for sure. Fancy has an abundant, luxurious, silky coat that looks even thicker after you remove enough excess fur to knit another cat. I brushed as she paced and purred.
I brushed until her tail started twitching and she gave me the royal stink eye. But since she didn’t leave, I kept on brushing until she nipped me. Seemed a reasonable enough sign that she was done and someone was about to lose an eye for impudence.
Royalty can be so dang moody.