No matter how recently she's been fed, no matter how long I brushed her fur and murmured sweet nothings in Her Imperial Ear, no matter how few minutes ago it was that I stopped what I was doing for me and petted her for a solid ten minutes - if I put her down on the floor in a fit of exasperation, O'Keefe adopts the Supreme Martyr Posture and facial expression and sits by my chair with her despairing gaze cast down to the floor. Emanating those evil Martyred Cat waves at me, silently. In her mind, she is the Most Abused, Most Starved, Most Neglected, Most Unloved Cat in all the universe. And I am the Evil Mom doing all those terrible things to her. Simply because I refuse to pet her 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
SHE DRIVES ME CRAZY!
well, yes, okay, she was the sick one that kept me awake nights about 6 weeks ago because I was so worried she was dying - or worse, I'd have to decide to have her put to sleep.
What's that got to do with it?