cat detail10-26-99 Julia sneaks into the bathroom to eat Fleck's fatty kitten food. I can hear her ID tag jingling against the ceramic bowl. I shout. She runs out of the bathroom and sits by the balcony door. I shut the bathroom door. Fleck follows Julia everywhere and spies on her. He follows her into the bathroom and spies on her while she eats his food. When I shut the door, it's only a matter of seconds before he creeps to the crack beneath the door, sticks his pink nose out, and eeps pitifully. I let Fleck out of the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He darts behind the dining room table and spies on Julia. He can't leave well enough alone, though, and he pounces on her fat, flicking tail. She snarls and bitchslaps him across the dining room. I let her out onto the balcony. Fleck, lost without Julie to spy on, runs to the kitchen. Crunch, crunch, crunch go little kitten teeth on Julia's grown-up-cat food. I pick Fleck up and direct him to his own food dish, leaving the bathroom door open. Fifteen minutes later, Julie paws at the screen door to be let in. I let her in. I sit back down at the computer. Jingle, jingle, jingle go ID tags on ceramic kitten-food dish. I just want healthy cats and a little peace and quiet. Is that so much to ask? I did nothing today. That explains why I was home, observing, and writing such philosophical bullshit about my cats. For some reason, when I'm at home during the day, I feel compelled to watch Little House on the Prairie on TBS. Why? I mean, I liked the show as a kid. I'll bet most everyone has a show or two (or twelve) that makes them all homesick for their childhood. John watches Life Goes On whenever he can find it. For about six months when we lived in Lansing he woke up at 8 to watch Life Goes On, then he'd stumble back to bed. But he had a leftover-from-high-school crush on Becca. He knows every TV movie that Kelly Martin ever made. I don't have a crush on anyone on Little House. Tomorrow, I swear, I'm going to go out and get a job. For real this time.
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