"What??" he says.

"To be quite honest, I was wondering why you have to "blap" all the time," I respond.

I get a look that is half astonishment and all offended. He is, when all is said and done, a cat. Granted, the ability to hurl partly digested dry and/or canned food into varied and sundry shapes is a coveted talent, but c'mon...it's disgusting. Worse than that, it smells like a dead goat.

Cats really really have the life. We feed them, we clean up after them, we tote that barge and lift that bale for them and still they give us looks that say, "It's not quite good enough".

There are people that I'd like to give that look to. No, not anyone in particular...at least no one that I want to admit to in a public forum. Or think about. Gag...I feel a hairball coming on.

Maybe that's it. Scooter is hairballing for me. Maybe he senses the disgust I feel for a chosen few and he is blapping on my behalf. It's a great theory right up until that look I get from him. It's the smugness. It's the "I'm above you...please clean that up" look.

Perhaps if he were hairballing for me I could excuse it a little. ?? Ok...that's a stupid statement. Of course I couldn't excuse it. I'm nickel and diming myself to death on paper towels and Lysol cleaner...and all of that for a smug look and a switch of a tabby tail. Sigh.

He's napping again and I am looking at blap on the rug. I love my cat. I will clean it up and probably ask him if it's up to his standards. He'll roll and purr and tell me to bring him a snack.

Like a lemming...I will obey.