Have you ever missed someone so much it made you mad, refusing to pay any attention to them at all upon their return?

Me either.

Cats (at least mine anyway), have the innate ability to make you feel like shit for being away from them longer than they deem necessary (for Ted, it’s right at 8 hours).  And while I was recently living it up on a cruise, it was easy to forget the icy feline welcome (I forgot about the welcome, not the cat) awaiting me at home.

I’m back. And he’s pissed.

Now if you read much of this blog, you must know that Teddy is spoiled beyond belief (he is the little love of my life, after all).

He drinks out of a glass (bowls make him lean down too far, thus hurt his neck).

I discovered Ted’s “bad neck” when he dirtied every single glass of water I sat on a table.

I tried to break his glass guzzling habit by demonstrating…but then he just waited for me to make an ass of myself every night when I got home from work and refused to drink out of the bowl without my assistance. How conniving.

His Majesty’s food costs $60 per bag because he has an allergy to chicken (which was oh so easy to diagnose after 6 cheap visits to the vet).  I have to present a prescription card at Pet Smart every time I need to purchase the fancy duck and pea mix (they won’t sell it to me if I don’t have the RX card…who the F would want to buy pet food that expensive for fun? Apparently there are many other crazy cat ladies out there – I’m not alone!).

And if you were wondering, I don’t eat the week I buy his precious delicatessen (easy way to diet…starve yourself while saving up to feed your cat).

Ted the vegetarian. Obsessed with peas…eating my supper before I get a chance.

This little fur ball also skips the pet carrier, being swaddled in his favorite blanket and sitting on my lap when I escort him anywhere.

Teddy’s chariot. He demands to ride in style. And yes, we’re both buckled up.

This cat never spends a day in a kennel while I’m away.  He either vacations at with my folks (who adore their little grandcat) or he gets to go and spend time at his buddy’s stomping grounds (Ted’s own private Disney World) – complete with a screened in porch (for Ted to run in and out of 972 times per day), a basement to explore and stairs to frolic up and down.

So living the life of luxury, this cat could care less that I am back home and ignores me all waking hours the first day we’re reunited.

After the blase reception…After the cool brush past my leg, instead of practically crawling up it for attention… After the absence of purring when I snuggle him up under my chin… After the darting of his eyes, avoiding my ‘look at me I’m back and missed you so much and can’t wait to smother you’ stare occurs all night long…I get this on my lap before I go to work this morning:

Those are my legs under Mr. Bear (shut up, it’s a bad angle).

All of this after being a spoiled rotten little bitch. And I kinda love him for it.

CBXB