I am casually enjoying my evening at home,
but my cat is staring at me.
I have a comfortable home. It's a cozy castle heated by fire.
I don't work tomorrow, so I am enjoying a few cocktails tonight.
And, she stares at me!
Sitting in my lazy-boy recliner is my fat little Cayo.
She always gets the good seat.
I would sit on the floor before I would make her move.
She knows that.
And still, she stares.
Intimidating me.
Waiting for me to fuck up.
But, I am her primary care provider.
My wood stove is blazing, the outside temp is plummeting, and even tho she is sprawled out luxuriously in a cozy nest of blankets in MY lazy-boy, she stares at me.
"What!?"
"Jesus! "
"What!?"
She is waiting for me to pass out. I know it!
You should see the size of the mice she brings home to eat in front of me. She is working herself up to something bigger...
O.K. I may be paranoid, but...
Well, I really can't talk now.
She suspects something.
She is staring at me.
I am here for her.
Do YOU have a cat?
or...Does a cat... have YOU?
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