Because sometimes you need to drink with your friends and tell stories…
Yesterday, when I went to go to the lumber yard to get a couple dozen bags of topsoil, I couldn’t find my wallet. It drove me nuts, because I KNOW that I had placed it on the second desk in my office the night before. But when I went there, it was gone. I looked everywhere, and couldn’t find it, and then, on a hunch (since she has already chewed up one wallet and made an attempt on this wallet), I checked under the Morris chair in the spare bedroom where Rosie like to stash her (MY) stuff. And sure enough, there it was. I couldn’t figure out how she was doing it, until now.
As I was sitting here working, Tunch jumped up onto the spare desk, nonchalantly walked over and knocked my wallet onto the ground. In a flash, Rosie shot out from underneath my feet at the desk, picked up the wallet, and took off for the spare bedroom. Tunch just sat there and gave me a “WTF are you going to do about it, fat man?”
I just sat there for a minute, stunned. I think I may have actually said “You gotta be shitting me” out loud, because it dawned on me that if they really are working together, I’m screwed.
As I was there, I looked over the counter at his charts, and even upside down I could make out Tunch * CAUTION! *, which made me laugh. I asked if he behaved this time, and before I could finish the question, she blurted out “No!” and several assistants started laughing. He’s such a bastard at the vets they don’t even try to sugarcoat it.
Tunch has been on my tip ALL…NIGHT…LONG… because after the Pens win last night I gave Rosie and Lily left over steak and Tunch some tuna to celebrate the Pens win.
Now, he wants more tuna, and went so far as to knock his food bowl with kibble off the table so both dogs could eat it. BECAUSE IT WAS NOT TUNA.
I guess just the proximity to the concept of climbing shit tired him out.
There you go. The most awesome and simultaneously worthless fucking cat on the planet.