Afternoon is a magical time in our home. The wind usually shifts, bringing cool ocean breezes through the front windows and washing the day’s heat away.
It also brings a very prompt, very irate flock of cats out of hiding to begin the process of begging for their dinner. Dinner is served at 5:30, mind you. But 5:30 Central time is 3:30 Pacific, so by god, at 3:00 their little bellies start rumbling and by 3:03 the Douche Parade is in full swing.
I was trying to enjoy an ocean breeze and quiet moment when I heard grumpy muttering in my right ear. When 3:00 comes, the preaching begins. “Do you have a moment to talk about our Lord and Savior, Morris?” he seemed to ask. He didn’t seem to like it when I told him I that while I respected his sincerely-held Meowthiest views, I was quite non-denominational.
He’s definitely the mouthiest Meowthiest when it comes to dinner though.