I don't what has gotten into Felix lately but for the last two weeks we've been fighting over my spot on the couch. The damn cat won't move and then gets all pissy if I try to move him, hissing and trying to be gangsta.
Look, the spot on my couch has always been my spot on the couch. I've lived in my house for three years and he's lived there for two years and ten months. I don't do feng shui and the only thing that has changed is that I moved my computer desk to put in giant kitty castle. My point? IT'S MY SPOT!
"But RedWriter," you ask. "Why don't you appease the cat and move to the other side of the couch?" Because I can't see the tv as well for there. PLUS my cats eat and live better than I do so I don't think asking for the big piece of chicken is over the top.
Anyhow, after getting my ass kicked at worked, I got home and there he was on the couch, sprawled out on his back and flipping me off. So I went into the kitchen, opened some wet food, and Felix was all up on my ankles, purring.
I don't know why I didn't think of this before. I write this from my spot on the couch.