The thing is, Tessie knows she's being bad. She hops up, ever hopeful that her incredibly vibrant colouring has escaped my Facebook-addicted gaze. She perches on the tiniest of cushions, completely uncomfortable but determined nonetheless. However, all it takes is a look from me, sat in the DGR control centre, and she knows her place again. For about a minute. Oh well, at least none of them have decided to start using the sofas as an emery board yet, I suppose. There's still time for that.
So, young Tessie decamped. She found another place to hide. Now normally, with Mumsie around, such behaviour would be unheard of, but seemingly, with her big brother Rocky taking up the most room, perhaps she feels that the punishments will be less. I'm assuming her logic is, 'He's the furriest, and the fattest, I'm home and dry!'
She's coming back on Monday, young Tessicat, and mark my words, she'll know. It doesn't matter how many lint rollers I get through trying to save you, she'll know.
It's funny how I seem to assume that cats also read this.
Have a good afternoon everyone!