Sigh.
Sadly, I must confess that all semblance of freedom has been lost. And
it didn't even take a full month. Whichever room I'm in, she's in.
There is no quiet if I am not up at the proper time--her morning
breakfast time. To sit in the green chair is to offer up my services as a
lap. Reading is allowed as long as it doesn't interfere with her
comfort. When I escape out into The Acres for a walk
or work, she meets me at the door when I return==petting is required;
demanded, not asked for. If I go upstairs, she precedes me, two or three
steps ahead. I am not allowed passage until I have petted her on each
step. If I'm sitting at the computer, she sits next to me and gives me a
lecture on ignoring cats. Earth has no fury like a cat scorned.
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