Anyone who has owned a cat can probably relate to these advanced feline conversations:
“You’ve got a whole apartment full of things to sit on. Would you care to explain why you’ve chosen my foot? Because I have to stir the sauce, and I can't reach it with a cat on my foot. Well, no, you don't have to care, but you do have to get off my foot and sit someplace else. Okay, see, while my other foot technically qualifies as ‘someplace else,’ I think you may have missed my point. ‘Get off my foot' is my point. I feel it’s a strong one. So get off. Now. Please. Thank you.”
“Look at the clock. Look at the clock, please. Oh, don't give me that ‘I can't tell time’ crap. You know what a two looks like, fat boy. Do you see a two on that clock? No. No, you certainly don’t. So do you get lunch now? No, you certainly don't. No two, no lunch.” […]
Hehe…this is *so* like my cat–like last night when she was feeling neglected and kept sitting atop all of the stuff I was trying to go through to pack last night.