I say Mom is really odd. She is easily amazed about nothing. The other day, having finished a half of the evening dish, I had an urge to scratch and went to my nap place -- a shallow carton under the table -- and scratched and then lay down; when she finished washing the dishes, she saw me and said, "You didn't finish your breakfast," and, reminded by these words, I rushed back to my dish to finish the remaining half of food in the dish. I then heard her mutter to herself: "Goodness, he heard what I said." Of course, I heard her and understood what she said." I understand a lot of things but she has no idea because I never tell her what I heard and understood but choose to ignore. I understand a lot of things that happen around me because I am observant, that is to say, I hear and smell everything all the time. What does she know what I know and don't know. I often sit on the chair she was sitting during a meal and leaves behind to do the dishes. It's nice and warm. When she returns, she tries to push me off the chair, and I yield. As I get off the seat I hear her say: "If you think I'm your live-in guest, you'd better treat me with courtesy." Of course, that's why I gave her my warm seat. When she calls my name I turn my head and look at her to acknowledge. But after the first call, she calls my name over and over, and I ignore. If I heard once, I heard enough. It’s annoying to say the least. I lightly move the tip of my tail for a few times but she keeps repeating my name ad nauseam. Ad nauseam, indeed. Well, I love her just the same.
03.02.18
