Friday, January 07, 2005


I will not slurp fish food from the surface of the aquarium. I must not help myself to Q-tips, and I must certainly not proceed to stuff them down the sink's drain. I will not eat large numbers of assorted bugs, then come home and puke them up so the humans can see that I'm getting plenty of roughage. I will not stand on the bathroom counter, stare down the hall, and growl at NOTHING after my human has been watching The X-Files. I will not use the bathtub to store live mice for late-night snacks. I will not perch on my human's chest in the middle of the night and stare into her eyes until she wakes up. We will not play Herd of Thundering Wildebeests Stampeding Across the Plains of the Serengeti over any humans' bed while they're trying to sleep. I will try to remember that screaming at the can of food will not make it open itself. I will try to remember that I cannot leap through closed windows to catch birds outside. If I forget this and bonk my head on the window and fall behind the couch in my attempt, I will not get up and do the same thing again. I will not assume the patio door is open when I race outside to chase leaves. I will not intrude on my human's candle-lit bubble bath and singe my bottom. I will not stick my paw into any container to see if there is something in it. If I do, I will not hiss and scratch when my human has to shave me to get the rubber cement out of my fur. I will try to remember that if I bite the cactus, it will bite back. I will try to remember that when it rains, it will be raining on all sides of the house. It is not necessary to check every door. I will try to remember that the dog can see me coming when I stalk him. I will not play "dead cat on the stairs" while people are trying to bring in groceries or laundry, or else one of these days, it will really come true. When the humans play darts, I will not leap into the air and attempt to catch them. I will not swat my human's head repeatedly when she's on the family room floor trying to do sit ups. I will try to remember that when my human is typing at the computer, her forearms are *not* a hammock. I will try to remember that computer and TV screens do not exist to backlight my lovely tail. I will try to remember that I am a walking static generator. My human doesn't need my help installing a new board in her computer.


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