I was up early this morning. Not as early as the cat, who had appointed himself guardian of the demesne, using the vantage point of the corner of the roof overlooking the back deck and ravine:
I give away my position in the kitchen:
At which point he magically appears overhanging the kitchen door yelling: Feed me! I've been on guard
all morning!
And, being well-trained by previous cats, I obey and produce a tiny platter of ground beef. To which he responds, What the fuck is that?
And gives me a wounded look (not included) and leaves, abandoning the offering. No doubt as I'm typing this some crow is taking advantage.
I feel spurned. Sniff.
