Last night I had insomnia as usual. At 2 am, I decided I wanted a skinny cow ice cream sandwhich. However, our freezer is located in our finished basement where our cats sleep. They dont mind going down there initially. Its part of a ritual where I move their food down there and give them some treats. But at 2 am? I knew *exactly* what would happen, yet did it anyway. The cats woke up, I pet them, got my ice cream and headed up. The 6 year old raced to the top of the basement stairs and waited for me to open the door. I nudged him down with my foot. He made a giant protest meow and dug in with his nails. I nudged him harder. More of a slow push really. He dug in. I kept pushing! He made a giant protest meow, shot me a look of disgust and betrayal and retreated down the stairs.
I ait my ice cream sandwhich. It was very good. But there was a definite aftertaste of guilt.
I ait my ice cream sandwhich. It was very good. But there was a definite aftertaste of guilt.
