Mean Wrigley

This is me, in my Mean Mood. You can't tell it from the picture, but I'm buried under a bunch of pillows on the one side. It was a place of safety and warmth, and I'm in need of both of those lately.

First off, my human gets a neck/shoulder injury and winds up spending a week totally high on vicodin, muscle relaxants, and anti-inflammatory meds. Which means that I have no one to transcribe my pleas of help to the outside world. Then I started fighting with Polly more. You know, I'm just sick of her. And I'm showing her. The other day I trapped her in the bathroom by plopping myself right at the door, and whenever she tried to get past me, I hissed. Well, the male human saw this, and he had the nerve to lift me up, and without the proper grace that I require, and he actually yelled at me for it. So now I'm refusing to give him any love.

Although I did crawl into bed with them the other night when no one was around and slept in between their feet for a good 4 hours or so.

But as far as anyone is concerned, I'm fed up. My male human cancelled a bunch of my favorite tv channels the other day. Here he was, talking to the female, all "you know, we never watch these channels above 1000...let's call and cancel and it'll cut our bill by like $40" and she agrees. Did anybody ever ask me whether I care about the NHL channel? Listen, I like to watch grown men on ice fighting and spilling blood as much as anybody else. What do they think I DO all night while they're asleep? I've gotta stay occupied somehow, and since they refuse to let me fight with Polly, I need to watch the next best thing.

And my female human won't take me for walks anymore. She keeps saying she might, but the other day, she was out in her garden, and she took Twilight out. Without a leash. She said that it was ok because Twilight was one of the outdoor cats who moved in last year, and she stays on the porch with the human after having her ritualistic exploration under the deck where she used to live, and she won't run off. Well did anybody ever ask me whether I'd run off? No! Oh, I seethed, watching Twilight roll around in the ivy and scratch trees. The female human is all "oh, Wrigley's never lived outside, she might run off and get hit by a car," and all that crap. Well how does she know? Just because she's known me since I was three weeks old doesn't mean anything. I could have lived outside before then. I didn't. But I could have. She doesn't know, that's the point. Yet she assumes she knows.

Oh, I'm mad right now.

The one upside was that they gave me special kitty-milk they got at a place called Petsmart the other day. I really loved it. But then I threw it up. So now they're saying they might not give it to me again. Look, there were plenty of times when I saw the female human throwing up after she drank too much of something in a glass with a stem, but did she stop bringing those bottles home? Did I ever say "Oh, no more of this pinot for you, female human!" Nope, I just encouraged her to not drink to the point of throwing up, and now she's fine. It will just take me some time to get used to how much kitty-milk I can handle! We're at a high altitude now, which I've heard makes a difference in the effects of liquid refreshments. I sure hope I get kitty-milk again. I love that kitty-milk.