Power Struggles With Annie: A Short Story:
Annie decided that she wanted to live inside of my pantry this morning, like a little pantry- dwelling bridge troll who, whenever the pantry door was opened, demands tribute (this is a thing she decides to do, whenever the whim strikes her, like letting off plaintive meows when I'm live on air, if I fail to bribe her with food before I begin my program, or rattling my office door off its hinges, because I kept her out in the living room, while I was taking a client).
So, being that I was irritated with the constant claiming of the pantry, by her majesty, I decided I would teach her a lesson, by actually closing the pantry door, with her in it, while I prepared food.
Usually this works, and by the time the five minute food prep period is up, Annie is one pissed off kitty, who flies out of the pantry, giving me a look of purest loathing, while running by (I'm fairly certain that this look is intended to communicate the sentiment: "fuck you, lady!" Sometimes an equally furtive look commands a similar sentiment, which, I believe is something akin to “fuck you, lady, and everything you stand for, AND the horse you rode in on too!” This particular sentiment is also a favorite of Annie’s to communicate to me, upon the occasion that she becomes so upset “fuck you” alone simply will not do).
This time, however, Annie simply went from shelf to shelf, ripping various snack bags open and feasting on the snacks inside. When I opened the door to let her out, she gave me this look, which, again, being passably fluent in cat language, I'm reasonably sure was intended to communicate the sentiment "beat you at your own game, bitch." Well played, Annie. Well played. Until next time.