I believe the ants have accepted me as one of their own. I woke up with only a slight itch, that may have been a couple of rookies who missed the memo. The ants now go around my slab of human flesh on the couch and downwards to the wall that holds the t.v..
I’m so grateful that I have been thinking of giving them a peace-offering, but what do you give an ant? Should I leave cookie crumbs in a shape of a heart by the window? I mean Valentine’s Day is coming up (sigh says bitter cat woman). Too desperate huh? Yeah, they don’t like kiss asses.
I know, a spoon full of sugar! Very thoughtful and later we can all reenact Mary Poppins. My umbrella has a couple of holes, never the less, the ants will carry me down a banister of leftovers from the cushions of my couch.
I’ll work on this later, my bigger issue are my cats.
This morning I feel like I walked in on a meeting of what seemed liked my assassination. They had “rubbing out Jane” all over their little cute eyes.
See, in the transition of me working and actually seeing any money I am penniless. With a whopping $1.97 in my savings account, that was transferred from my checking as I closed this account to avoid fees since I wasn’t working, (a day before I got hired…I know), as the teller laughed when he asked what to do with my $1.97. Oh, I’ll be back Chase. This may be the reason why the ants pity me.
Sadly cat food has been scarce and limited to the cheap, non appetizing dry food, and the 99 cent store isn’t how it use to be. With my last physical dollar I bought a small, sad attempt of kibble and tried explaining to them, “Yo mama is broke. Wait!” They never do.
Of course I added extras like ham, some leftovers, and chicken gravy to sauce it up…with love.
So this morning as I stumbled from my couch to “my room” I opened the door on them meowing silently. With one of my cat’s eyes staring into my soul, flicking his tail harder and harder on the tile. Suddenly we had a telepathic conversation. “I’m waiting….” Noting how hard he can flick his tail.
His brother sat quietly, still meowing under his breath.
I didn’t get my usual good morning greeting. No, I got the stink eye. A stink eye from a cat is the scariest and disturbing stink eye one can receive.
I backed away and came back with the remains of the kibble. The fat man walked towards the bowls, checking them out for approval.
It was ok.
A look was given and received from one brother to the other. Casually, the little man pawed an empty box of cat food towards my feet.
We met eyes.
He gave me a warning.
The box was empty with its corners strategically ripped and torn off. He then walked off to join his brother to continue with their food and meeting.
I’ve raised mob kitties…and I couldn’t have been prouder.
They could be in cahoots with the ants, you know lulling me into a false sense of security as the kitties strike, in exchange for their lives. Someone’s pulling the strings, and I smell kitty.
Well, I always smell kitty in my house but I use Febreeze, it works.
I would’ve accepted a dead fish in newspaper, but they’re pretty hungry, an empty box will do.
If I don’t write anymore, the fat man and Mr. Brandon succeeded.
Just look how reckless they can be!