"Me kill you? You kicked me halfway through the room!"
Not an unusual conversation between Mom and me these days.
Let me explain. A few months ago Mom decided to put something on the floor in the bunny room (bunnyless now, but the name stuck). Greebo liked to sleep on the little sofa there, but due to his age he is a little wonky on his feet sometimes, and he had a problem with slipping on the laminate floor when he got down. Mom's sister still had a rug in storage, brought it over and voilà, Greebo didn't slip! Of course the reason for that would be that from this day - that's no joke! - he didn't sleep on that couch anymore. He always refused to tell me why, though.
I liked the rug a lot and often sprawled on it, so although it hadn't been planned, it stayed for now.
A while ago then when Greebo had been to the vet and got some pain medication, he didn't react well at all. He kept falling over, slipping on the wooden floors which were slightly better than the laminate, but still too smooth, and I don't even want to talk about the cork imitation in the hallway. He had such a hard time getting up that Mom got very worried. To make it easier for Greebo, she took the rug from the bunny room and moved it into the hallway and because it wasn't big enough, she used her spare bathroom rug which hadn't even been unpacked yet to create even more of a path. Not pretty, but useful, and it really helped him even after the side effects of the meds had fortunately worn off.
I, however, like to think of this as my red carpet. To be honest, I think there should be a red carpet running through the whole place, maybe leading to all of my favorite napping spots.
Black on red does look fabulous, admit it. And this is my corner. I'm quite particular about my corner.
Now Mom keeps telling me that black on red in the dark is more like black on black and that the day will come when she will really kick me into the bedroom like a football and die herself in the act. It's ridiculous. First, she would never be able to kick me that fur. She sucks at sports. Second, she didn't even die when she slipped on one of Merlin's pee puddles in the middle of the night (don't judge him, he was sick and sometimes didn't make it to the box in time) although she fell flat on her back. Point proven.
It's just a trick to take my corner from me.
Then she started telling me that I recruited Gundel as an assassin's assistant (say that three times very fast). I have no idea whatsoever what she is talking about!
Gundel probably feels the same way, black on red is gorgeous. As long as she stays on the other side, we make an excellent pair - because, my corner, you know.
You want to know what Greebo is thinking about all of this? Well, as long as we leave him alone when he goes to his food bowl (the rug leads to the three table mats for our food dishes), he thinks we are all being, I quote "a bunch of kindergarten kids fighting about inane matters".
I know he can be grumpy with us sometimes, only Gundel gives him a quick one on the butt with her paw every, now and then. And of course he has the little bed under the chair that Gundel and I are not allowed to use at all. Shhh, I did the other day, but only for a few minutes before I was practically dragged off like a thief.
It's okay, he's not asking much even if Mom would get him the moon from the sky if he asked.
Now excuse me ... I gather it's time for a little nap. On my red carpet.
Talk to you soon!
