Has once again been my downfall and it took me hours to escape from the dreaded lock up in the laundry when all I’d been hoping for was a little snack-treat and a quiet afternoon snoozing in the hot water cupboard.
The other day the slave gave a lunch party for a noisy gaggle of ladies of a certain age. My Grand Entrance was slightly spoiled by hearing her say ‘Oh, here comes His Rotundity” but being essentially good natured I remembered my party manners and stayed for five minutes, adding elegance to the scene and allowing the ladies to cluck and coo over me. Then party duty over, I escaped to the kitchen to see what I could scrounge.
I scored a few slivers of chicken while they ate their salad and when the slave came back to the kitchen to plate up the frozen ice I rubbed against her legs and purred trusting her to take the hint.
I watched, drooling in anticipation while she filled seven dishes. But when she took six away into the dining room she forgot to place mine on the floor so I jumped up onto the worktop and helped myself (well, honestly, what was I supposed to do?). Alas, as you can see I’d only had time for one decent mouthful before she returned 30 seconds later to switch on the kettle for coffee, saw me, swept me off the counter and thrust me into the laundry.
I thought this behaviour most strange. Indeed it borders on the offensive. If she didn’t want me to have it why did she leave temptation there in front of me?