The war continues. We literally fight for territory, every inch of my flat is under dispute. Current hot zones are the counters in the kitchen. Ever since they found out how to get up there there's been pawprints all over the counter and they threw down some things (unbreakable ones, lucky me). And I removed the plants from the apartment, so the only place where they can get their little paws dirty is in the litter box. Go figure why I don't want them where I make my meals.
Anyway, Frankie tried to expand catland into my territory again. Went up onto the counter. I went at him, intending to pick him up, yell at him and throw him on the floor ('firf ten purschen tzu poden!', for those who watched Monty Pythons Life Of Brian in German), but he was faster, backed away from me and fell backwards into my open washing machine. Knocked his head on the metal wall quite good too. To complete the lesson, I picked him up by the neck fur, yelled at him and threw him back down on the floor.
Harsh measures, I know, but that was Sunday and since then the counter's been clean.
No comments:
Post a Comment