Injustice

Quade here.  I'm driven to nocturnal madness by this family's idiotic failures.

I am the master of this domain.  I am the protector of The Boy.  Still, they boot me from his room like rubbish and leave me just a scrap of room at the foot of the family bed as if I'm nothing but a common canine.

The nightly affection that is due me must be extracted.  They know they drill; they don't comply.  They know I must have vigorous patting and scratching on my neck no earlier than 1:30 a.m. and no later than 3:30 a.m.  I can only respond to such neglect by clawing at the bed.  A flying pillow or a few squirts from the water bottle will not deter me.  I will prevail.

I must admit, I bring my stealthy feline powers into play when I crawl up and balance myself on their bodies, walking from the tips of their toes to the crown of their heads and back again.  I remind them who's boss with this little game of King of the Mountain.  I'll win every time.  I can summon them awake by standing over them, staring into their vulnerable, sleepy faces.  They know I could slit their throats like a lion on the savannah, but still they shirk their duties.

They are lazy. A quick pat, not even the way I like it, and I must keep them in line with swats of my be-clawed paws.  They know I do not like to be petted on my stomach, but still they must be reminded with a bite if they do not pay attention.  I don't know why they can't get it right.

Tomorrow night, and the night after that will be the same. 

I will get these dull humans on a schedule if it kills me, or if it kills them, for that matter.