Down Under the Grumpies

On rare days, when I'm not in the best of moods to begin with, I get annoyed about the ninth time I have to leave the computer or the TV or a book, to open the door, to let Mo in or out. And when he's out of earshot, I may say to myself, "Darn cat! What a nuisance," etc.

'Way down deep in the middle of me, there lives a mysterious little being. It's like a little child, but one who knows where daddy keeps his gun. And on a day such as I described above, it mutters, "Don't talk about Mo like that." And the look it gives me is so dark and threatening, I immediately apologize and give Mo some extra Fancy Feast.