Behold the face of the unrepentant criminal!
Last night, after giving kibble to the rabble rouser, I took a glass from the cabinet where we keep dishes, poured some soy milk, and went to the other room to enjoy the cold glass. I suppose I didn't firmly close the cabinet door...fine.
Several minutes later, I heard some clanking noises from the kitchen and said to The Good Man, "what's she into now?"
He said, "we didn't leave any dishes on the counter, so I can't imagine..."
I got up and went into the kitchen.
The Feline had made her way into the cabinet where the dishes are kept and was prowling around in there. When I barked, "get down!" as I do when she's somewhere she ought not to be, she wigged out.
And in her haste to comply and quickly extricate her anything-but-lithe form from the shelves, she managed to shove the stack of bowls out of the cabinet and crashing, shattering to the floor.
She then scampered off a good distance, then stopped to lick her paw as though to say, "what?"
I found myself...mad. Really mad. Not kick the cat mad (in no way at all), but mad.
The Good Man rightfully reminded me that she's a pet, you can't reason with her like a child, that being mad is fine but really comes to no good end, that this is just what this particular feline does.
Sure. Didn't help. I was still mad.
Not mad enough I didn't let her sleep on top of me, like usual, but still, this morning...I'm peeved.
I'm probably more peeved at myself for leaving the door open than anything.
I once had a therapist say that being mad was more about yourself that it is about the person (feline) you are mad at.
So. Breathe in. Breathe out.
*sigh* So I guess this weekend we'll set out into the world to buy a new set of bowls. Ain't gonna be no soup in our house for a while!
