Why I Hate Weekends

There’s a great thing about weekdays.  No humans.  MommyHuman and DaddyHuman wake up in the morning.  I’m happy, because they’re going to feed me.  Although sometimes they don’t.  I eat.  By the time I’ve finished my food, they’re gone.  It’s great.  I can sleep.  I can play.  I can open the cupboards and disrupt everything.  If the portal to the WaterRoom is left open, I can attack the paper cylinder.  

                     photo (1)      photo

Then MommyHuman and DaddyHuman come home, see me waiting by the door, play with me, share their HumanFood with me, and leave again.  When they finally come home for good, they’re tired.  They make food.  They give me food.  They read a story.  They sleep.  I climb on top of them.  I steal their warmth.  I love it.

But weekends.  Weekends are just the worst.  They never leave.  They want to pet me.  And hold me.  And I hate it.


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