I Can Deny Ellie Nothing

I don’t say this entirely because I am a pathetic pet-owner who is owned by her cat. A large part is because I am pandemically housebound, haven’t started my blog tour yet for Casting Call, nor started writing my new Percy Cole book. And God forbid I should do some housework. Well, that’s not quite true. I did a load of laundry the other day. It sits in a basket in the living room waiting to be put away. But back to I can deny Ellie nothing. The other day I ordered her a pet stepladder to get on and off our California King bed. The bed has one of those Princess and the Pea mattresses. You know the kind, cloud-soft foam, several yards thick. The kind of bed where once you lay down not only don’t you want to get up, sometimes you can’t. You have to roll over to the side and drop off. Word to the wise: do this feet first. Headfirst, not so good. Adding to the bed’s height are the six-inch lifts. This is so hubby can store his musical equipment underneath. In short, this is not just a bed. It’s a way of life. And Ellie has taken to this life like the queen she is. It is her majesty’s kingdom. However, when she dienes to leave for food, drink, treats or… ahem… potty time, she has to return to her kingdom in the sky. Lately, this has involved a certain amount of posturing. Being a smart cat, despite what others might say, she lets me know when she wants a handheld elevator ride back to the stratosphere. She marches to the side of the bed, lifts herself up on her back legs, stretches front paws to the very top of the mattress, and…

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