Dear Tink:
I appreciate the fact that you are a crepuscular animal. I, on the other hand, am not. Please stop pacing back and forth on top of the printer at 4:00 a.m. Neither Strange Man, nor I, enjoy the sound of the feeder tray teetering precariously under your weight like a Tinker Trampoline. Coincidentally, it is the same sound a $100 bill makes leaving my hands and careening into the wallet of the printer repair guy.
If you insist on continuing your daily trek to the plastic paradise known as "HP," please do so during my normal waking hours: 11:00-11:20 a.m., 2:45-3:15 p.m., and midnight to 1:00 a.m. Please consider all other times to be Tinker Taboo.
Failure to abide by these rules will result in your immediate banishment from the sleeping area. To clarify, that means the human sleeping area. Given that every other inch of the house constitutes a feline sleeping area, banishment from all sleeping locations would be impractical. Unless I throw your ass outside. Which, I will admit, I have found tempting on more than one occasion.
You are on thin ice, little one. I would hate to see the ice beneath you crack, just as the printer is likely to do if you don't leave it alone.
Sincerely,
Woman Who Feeds You
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