Unfortunately, this has some rather serious repercussions for yours truly. Because, unlike Satan, I still do like to indulge in healthy dose of TV on a pretty regular basis. On the plus side: Total eternal control of the remote…YESSSSS! Along with never watching cable again, Satan has further decided his suddenly delicate ears simply can not stand the faintest whisper of a sound that might accidentally escape from an unclean cable show that I might be enjoying. Hence, Satan spends a lot of time re-closing the stray family room pocket door and giving me stern and disapproving looks through the glass panes of said door (the TV was permanently relocated to the family room).
While there’s no doubt that I’m fairly annoyed, poor FurGirl is simply beside herself having gotten used to, for all her four years, settling in each night at the feet of the parental units both together and in one room. But now. NOW…she is forced to choose…choose between Daddy in the living/dining room or Mommy who is hermitically sealed in the family room.
What’s a FurGirl to do?
Should she sit meekly at Daddy’s feet as he reads? Hang out with Mommy and the sqawk-box? What…WHAT should she do? Because, the choice is never clear. Well, unless, of course, either Mommy or Daddy has food. In which case the choice is basically a no-shitter: position herself in the drop zone and hope like hell somebody gets clumsy.
What FurGirl does do is roam back and forth between living room and family room giving each of us in turn a desperate and confused look. When I am sealed in the family room, she stares at me forlornly through the glass until I take pity on her and let her in, whereupon she settles herself and tries to relax. Only to be roused by some unexpected noise from Daddy in the living room that she is then force to rise and inspect. If after that she settles in the living room, there will invariably be a calamity in the family room that requires her attention. It’s an exhausting, vicious cycle.
And it’s beginning to take its toll.
While FurGirl seems to be holding it together at the moment, we all know these situations can get out of hand in a hurry. Soon she may start howling uncontrollably, hanging out with all the wrong neighborhood dogs, or coming in from a potty break with bloodshot eyes. So, I’m doing the only thing I can for her. I’m seeing that she gets the best therapy available. That’s right, people, say it with me:
!WHEEL!…
!OF! …
!FORTUNE!
I think she’s starting to perk up already.
Just in time for the big money puzzle, too.
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