I understand you have the need to dominate my time every single waking moment of the day.
I mean, who could blame you?
I am fat and warm, and fun to sleep on– I see that now.
When I am not sitting still, you know, trying to work, I am doing entertaining things like trying to cook, or clean the kitchen, or pack my gym bag so that I might go work out someplace that does not involve me picking up your crap. It is way too fun for you to run in and out of my feet when I am doing these things for you to stop because of pesky details like me making the humans food, or not getting the dishes done, ever, or, hello, I might step on you because you are made of busy and my own feet are made of slow.
So I understand that I can be fun.
I do take you on walks, and this is great. I admit that often I go too fast or too slow– often at the same time, and I shall try to adjust my speed. I also admit, it would help if one of my walkable creatures did not have absurdly deer-like legs while the other is like a bread-roll on legos, but that is not your fault. You did not choose to be so tall or so short, and I’m the one who put the halter on you and said, “Walkies!” so, yes, I’m the one who shall have to deal.
I understand that for one of you my time would be better spent on the potty, so that we might commune spiritually, as opposed to in my computer chair, where you can glare at the world as though you own the place. I understand that you would also prefer my ass be smaller, so that we could share space, but I am loathe to stop eating cookies just so you can own my chair, so deal with it.
I totally get that it might be difficult to go find another part of the couch, or a bed, or one of five dog beds, or even another one of the other four humans to sleep on when we’re all gathered in front of the television. I understand that my repetitive movement with sticks and string might possibly disturb you while you are snoring in and among my clothes and that perhaps I might want to just fling my hobby of 17 years to the four winds and blow off any possible chance of using even 1/10th of the yarn I’ve accrued over that time, because, you know, what’s money or a perishable consumable, or even, you know, a criminal waste of beautiful fiber?
The Christmas tree was cruel of us, I know. Silly, really, to bring a tree from the outside to the inside, and then hang it with toys for you, and not expect you to completely destroy it as often as possible. That was, in fact, our bad. Completely. Can’t argue.
So, yes, animals, I understand completely. You own us for companionship and to dispense food and water at appropriate intervals, and it is our job to comply.
I only have one little, itty bitty, teeny tiny, minuscule little consideration. One completely unobjectionable bit of maintenance I wish you all would attempt, just to make my life so much easier.
Love you all so much, my fur babies– thank you for celebrating the holidays with me and my hairless kittens.