MOOSINGS OF MOO
The nuances of petiquette- a lesson for hooman slaves.
It’s been a while since my last moosing, mainly because with the cold weather I have taken it upon myself to indulge in that holy service to the soul we call napping. It has also brought to my attention the fact that petiquette has certain nuances, nuances that I feel hoomans should be well versed in, to prevent future blunting of my claws on their faces.
Firstly… Let me make one thing very clear. Petting, is not about you. It is only about me. It is petiquette’s founding principle that I decide when it begins, and when it ends. I may only want exactly 63.5 strokes in a counter-clockwise direction under the left saide of my jaw, and you, as hooman, must respect my right to bite the shit out of you if you violate this term.
Secondly… (and this is something I have been utilising in order to prevent the bae from gaining proximity to the one with the tiny head and chest mountains) if I sit down, this is where I will stay. If that so happens to be in between a couple of spooning hoomans… so be it. If that so happens to be me with my arse in your face, you are grateful merely for my presence.
Thirdly… Under no circumstances must you obstruct the padding circles. I am signalling to the world that I have chosen my spot. It is my spot, and nobody will take it from me, not hooman… or otherwise. The padding circles may also incur purring, which you should not take as a desire to be close to you, but simply as a signal that you better not fuck with me while I’m padding. It is a warning, a siren if you will. Do not get in my way.
Fourthly… (I am running out of toebeans so may very well lose count shortly)
If I sit with bottom in your face, do not take this as me trusting you… I simply wish to stick my chocolate starfish as close to you as possible, so you remember that I am the superior, and you are my slave.
In addition, I also feel the need to tell you that sometimes, just because I feel like it, I will throw petiquette to the wind and bite the shit out of you anyway. This is simply the wonder of owning a cat, and if you weren’t prepared then you shouldn’t have taken up such a taxing position as an active slave. As it stands, the one they call bae rarely does incur this punishment, but the one with the tiny head is often incurring my fuzzy wrath. If only she knew that sometimes she is simply just not bae, and therefore deserves to be utterly mauled.
So, remember, petiquette is key.