A Beast in the Crow’s Nest

scooterandnancy800x600Eek! There’s a beast in my crow’s nest! Get it out! Get it out! Get it out! — Oh, for the love of catnip. Now it’s eating my food and drinking from my water fountain. What’s next, pooping in my litter box? Wait, there’s a second litter box. Hisss!!! I will not have it, I tell you! Make it stop! — I fuzzed my tail when you brought in that beast. I laid back my ears. I growled like a wolverine crossed with a grizzly bear. It was an awesome noise, even if I do say so myself. I’ve given full warning of my displeasure, and yet a week later that beast is still in my house, hogging my living room crow’s nest, eating my food, drinking my water, and she had the audacity to poop in my litter box this morning instead of hers. Okay, so maybe that was a protest on her part, because I’ve been laying poop-bombs in the middle of her dainty litter box. Just showing my displeasure. It’s my house. I have that right. Now the little minx is doing the same to me. On top of everything else, management has the gall to tell me to behave? I will not have such disrespect! — Wait, what do you mean she’s homeless? As in no place to live? Well, fiddlesticks. Now you’re playing on my sympathies. That’s not fair. <sigh> Okay, I’ll try to work this out, if you’ll make her stop bopping me on the nose every time I try to get close enough for a sniff. Come on, people. Work with me here. I’ll try, if she will. — And just for the record, I’m the beauty. She’s beast. <grrrrrr>

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