Monday, August 22, 2016
For ages now, I've been trying to get Mom to understand that this is MY space. Not hers. Yes, I know that technically it's "her" dressing table, but clearly, it's meant to be a lounge space for a mancat.
I mean, seriously, look at all this room. Can you believe we've been battling for over two years?! I kept knocking things off... finally she'd realize she needed to relocate it. One by one, they all fell to my mighty whapping paw. And the steel in my eye as I'd do it, looking sternly right at her. You have to make sure they get the point.
Hoomins can be quite dense, so training is usually a laborious chore. Finally she got it, and moved the last bit (a hairdryer in its metal holder). Right where I'm sprawled here, that's where it was.