Dinner out

So here's the thing: the other day the family got invited out to dinner. It wasn't far. Just over the road. The family goes and feeds their cat from time to time. This cat -- you should see this cat. It is the fattest cat that ever lived. And it gets kangaroo meat for dinner! Every night. Me, well, I prefer my tins -- as in, I *really* prefer my tins -- but we're all different I suppose.

So, I go over expecting to be welcomed, and what do they do? They laugh. Oh, ha ha ha ha. Very funny. Beth has come to visit. I mean a family invite's a family invite, right? So do they invite me in? No, they do not. Do they feed me? Alas, no. I mean, I know I was a few minutes late and all -- and admittedly one of the kids did slip me something when they were all outside, but still! Not only did I *not* get fed there, but then they all moved inside and left me outside. How rude is that? I kept calling, and I'm sure they could hear me but they ignored me. Me! The cat! They ignored the cat -- can you believe it! Perhaps I'd better read those devilcat tips more closely after all. And then the fattest cat of all time took it upon herself to come and yell at me and tell me to get off her turf. Did I listen? No, I did not. I took my time, yelled some more, and then waited for them to take me home. A good night was not had by all. Most certainly not.