Having her way extends to the witching hour. Between 2:45 and 3:15 AM, Frisky transforms from a lazy lap-warmer into a soprano performing a one-cat opera about The Great Hunger.
She didn't want the food. She just wanted me to get up . Frisky having her way
She doesn’t ask to join me. She doesn’t meow politely. Instead, she sits exactly three feet away, staring at the spot where my thigh meets the cushion. She performs what I call the "Surgical Stare." Having her way extends to the witching hour
Does your pet rule the roost? Tell me your "Frisky" stories in the comments below. she sits exactly three feet away