A Terrorist in our Midst

Okay, this cat is a terrorist. Tonight I was minding my own business; innocently breading a chicken for baking and chopping up a leafy salad. Squeaker (did I tell you that is his name?) promply arrives in the kitchen meowing menacingly. I turn around, point the chef knife in his general direction and say sweetly 'don't speak to me like that'. He flounces up into Dad's chair at the table and continues to nag me, loudly. I pretend I don't hear.

Dad comes into the kitchen next - on the end of a particularly mournful meow. He says 'What is this, Squeaker?' and ruffles the cat's head fur. Squeaker quits meowing! He sits quiesently til we serve dinner - his usual mealtime.

How did I not see it?! He is playing me! I've been had by a cat!