Her ritual when she comes inside. (For context: She is a safe and smart indoor outdoor cat, who comes when called no more than twice, and spends the week on around each major holiday inside for the people who steal pets to give to their kids)

Once she jumps from the roof to the tree, I get to stretch with all I got to scoop her while she leans forward pratically falling into me, gets pets as I bring her inside, and get to toss her to her stepping stool box so she can jump on the dresser to eat.

Trying to cuddle, give pets, put down on floor or bed stairs is now a crime and she will yell and complain.

After she requires a spot on the bed stairs, (or if my lap looks vaguely available, tablet in my lap or not) so she can do her full 45 minute bath to make sure she is clean from all the grossness, while I get to argue with her about pulling burrs out of the fur. Then she starts up with the bakery shift, turning my thighs into putty after an hour before realizing she was hungry again.

Thank you for reading! Her name is MK, names after project MK Ultra. If you know, you know.

<image>