In the ten or so months since Ali came to live with us, I have often thought that she's just not smart enough to have any feelings. Every day, she's in the exact same mood. Feed her, she's happy. Ignore her, she's happy. Give her the ring from a jug of milk, she's happy. Lock her in a closet, she's happy. Step on her tail, she's happy. Dress her in American Girl doll clothes, she's happy.
She's always happy. It's that sort of content, pleasant mood that makes her a pretty awesome cat, even if I am starting to suspect that she's a robot. A happy robot.
As a matter of fact, I have never once heard her hiss. Until today, that is.
Today she got her panties in a bunch and couldn't pick them out no matter how much anybody tried to calm her down. She was riled up, hissy, and just plain PISSED.
She spent hours circling the family room, hissing, smacking, and generally throwing a fit.
Apparently she isn't a fan of Max.
Which is just too bad. He may not keep the name, but he is staying in the house.