Olympia is having a snowpocalypse today. It's been coming down in big, wet, sticky flakes all day. It's enough to drive a cat indoors for a nice, long nap. Which is exactly what I did!
I spent a couple of hours snoozing in the warm, fleecy comfort of my red blanket, then got up and decided to make the rounds, spread the love, you know the drill. But something was different today.
I jumped down from the chair with the red fleece blanket and mosied on over to the room where the reporters who talk on the radio live. But their door was closed. They do that sometimes if they're recording stuff because I wear a jingle bell on my collar and I guess they don't want that on the radio. Personally, I think it would add a pleasant ambiance, but their mileage must vary.
Since I couldn't hang out with the radio guys, I decided to try the interns. They're usually glad to see me, and they have that super cool orange vinyl couch when I want to try out a different nap spot for a little while. But their door was closed, too!
I sat outside feeling puzzled. Why was everyone shutting me out today?
One of the interns opened the door, which I naturally assumed was an invitation to come inside. Better late than never. But he pushed me back! What the...? Then another one came out and I tried for the door again, but got pushed back again. This time, I could see through the opening before the door was so rudely slammed in my face. And you'll ever guess what I saw. Really. You'll never guess.
Let me say that again.
I was just stunned that anyone would prefer the company of a dog over me. I mean. A dog. Need I say more?
Apparently, the dog belongs to the human who's in charge of the interns. Her name is Cindy. The dog's name is Toby. He's some kind of poodle. He doesn't have a blog (like a dog could be smart enough!) but he has a video on youtube.
Here's Toby with his mom, totally blocking my access to the orange couch. It's a hard knock life for a cat, I tell you.
I suppose it's all right as long he stays away from my red fleece blanket. But if he touches my blanket, I'm opening a can of whoop ass. Don't think I can't do it.