FURTHER PROOF THAT SHE'S GIFTED
Yesterday, I dropped a bag of ground coffee on the floor. Not much spilled out -- although, it's still a tragedy that ANY spilled out!
Emmy was there in the kitchen with me, doing whatever she does in the kitchen, which is usually yapping at all the ways I'm NOT doing things right in there (if I could translate cat-speak, I'm sure that is what she's always saying). When I realized the coffee had spilled out of the bag, I shouted something stupid like, "CRAP!", and ran for the vacuum cleaner, conveniently "hanging out" in the dining room these days.
As I was walking back into the kitchen, Emmy was just finishing up her part of the cleaning effort. She had taken her paw and scooped all of the coffee grounds into a neat little pile in the front of the refrigerator!
She turned, looked up at me, and seemed to say with her eyes, "Hey, don't ever accuse me of not working for my dinner." Then she walked off.
Emmy was there in the kitchen with me, doing whatever she does in the kitchen, which is usually yapping at all the ways I'm NOT doing things right in there (if I could translate cat-speak, I'm sure that is what she's always saying). When I realized the coffee had spilled out of the bag, I shouted something stupid like, "CRAP!", and ran for the vacuum cleaner, conveniently "hanging out" in the dining room these days.
As I was walking back into the kitchen, Emmy was just finishing up her part of the cleaning effort. She had taken her paw and scooped all of the coffee grounds into a neat little pile in the front of the refrigerator!
She turned, looked up at me, and seemed to say with her eyes, "Hey, don't ever accuse me of not working for my dinner." Then she walked off.
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