tired of telling, I’ll go nap

They can be so stubborn, those simians. Their problem is that they are always “with it”, just not the right “it”. I show my example of slowed down living. I tell them to stay in. Sit a while. I complain a murmered protest, or heavy sighs when they keep shifting those spidery legs of theirs. To no end. A body-mind needs rest and companionship. We’re all built for that from Tuna to Seagulls to you to me.

You know, there are certain parallels between a simian and its loud motor contraption for vet visits. There’s a hairless body, a coating of smells of all it has come into contact with, forward beams of sight but most relevant now the awful immiment crash and squeals made when the fiercely forward hurtling has to come to a sudden stop with body putting on the Brakes. The simians have been out a lot. Now what is out there that can compare to me, I can’t imagine. They have to do something to bring home the duck I suppose but the duck only comes home every couple weeks. That leaves a lot of time unaccounted for by cat treat arrivals. I can sniff no competition of other cats or dogs only secondary odors timeprinted much older from contact from others. Caruthers smothers, if I had my druthers…

The brakes, the stopping. The outting and aboutting seems to have paused. I can clearly diagnose the spine misalignment and can minister heat and pressure but she would use a rubber flacon instead. I am her heating pad. Plus I can massage with paws and purrs far better than an inert radiant sac. Harumph. As they wish.

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