I rolled over in bed this morning, shoved the cat/pillow out of my fuzzy view and smacked the alarm clock.
7:15 it glowed at me, rather obnoxiously.
My first thought on this glorious, dreary, rainy, wet, miserable day? "Sh*t!"
I had exactly forty minutes to get up, get ready and get the heck outta dodge. So I sat in the floor of my bathroom in front of the shower door mirror while a pudgy Himalayan pawed at my backside.
I applied eyeliner - and felt a poke as Phoebe massaged my left butt cheek.
A sweep of translucent powder (it's cooling - too cool!) - and Phoebe tenderly swatted my right butt cheek.
Jumping up, I run to find a shirt to wear - and there's Phoebe - in mid making-out bliss - with my new hairbrush! I had searched for months to find the perfect combo of blow-drying and anti-static paddle brush and there she was - rubbing on it like some furry harlot! This is how she stole my last perfect brush. Hussy.
I wrestle it away from her, wipe it free from drool and then watch as she looks at me with huge, sad, blue eyes. At this point I know I have two options: Give in and deal with the cat drool (it could be pomade-ish...) or don't give in and find something else for her to carnally delight in... so... I pulled open the drawer and gave her my old "perfect brush."
She sniffed it, looked at me, huffed and walked off - tail high in the air.
Yeah... that's my cat...