Smudge doesn’t support equality. The geriatric moggie (15½), follows a ‘Top Cat’ policy and envisages that I will serve him 24/7.
While I’m watching telly he’ll jump up on the couch, make himself comfy, and sit on my lap. I’ll get up to make a cup of tea, but find when I return that he has strategically moved across to my seat in the centre—which is perfect viewing. The fluffball expects me to now sit on either side of him.
The other night I rebelled and pretended to sit on top of him. Smudge didn’t budge, but his ears were flat. I then sat mainly on the seat cushion next to him—filled with foam, it sank down—and partly on the side of his cushion, which also dipped a little. The look I received would have caused a bird to shudder. Immediately, Smudge pulled out a paw from under his chest and leapt off the couch, retreating to the tub chair in the spare room.
A few hours later ready for bed, he jumped on the couch and pawed my arm. Dozing myself, I was being kicked off.
History repeats itself… The next night after getting a cup of tea, I returned to the couch and sat next to Smudge. However, this time, the big mog grudgingly shifted across so I could sit in my prime spot and rested his front paws on my thigh. For a while, I was no longer a slave to the moggie!