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"Scrith, please eat your dinner! You wont get any caviar ice cream! No! Don't throw it at Cooty!!"
It was a typical night in our home. Aitace was yelling at Scritch for throwing food instead of eating it. He never did listen...
"Aitace, if you don't control your cat I will put it in obedience school!" I yelled at them. "How many times am I going to tell you. We are eating dinner. If he doesn't want to eat, put him in his room with is bowl."
With much arguing, Aitace finally put Scritch in his room. He moaned and complained from down the hall. I had never really liked the cat, but one day would love him.
About a week after this incident had occurred, he was still refusing to eat. I was planning on sending him to an obedience school that day. I was up all night trying to find the right one, so I was a little tired. I looked at the clock. It was only 12. I had time to eat and then take a nap. I put the chicken in the oven and went to lie down on the couch. I set the timer to wake me up in about a half hour. I fell asleep instantly.
What seemed like 5 minutes later, I was awoken by the smell of burning cloth. I looked around with weak eyes to see what it was. I was astonished to find that the chair next to me, and the rest of teh house, was on fire. I was choking from the fumes and breathing heavily because of all the dust. I crawled around the floor trying to find my way out, but I couldn't because of the smoke. I cried for help and suddenly Scritch came up behind me.
Something told me he wanted me to hold onto him to get out. I grabbed his tail and he guided me out of the flames. When we were out of the living room, there wasn't much smoke, so I could see. The first thing that I saw was Scritch. He was pitch black and had scorch marks all around. He couldn't walk very well. I scooped him up and began my journey outside. After what seemed like hours we made it out. By then the firemen and police were there. Someone had told them that a cat was in the house also, so they had brought a vet. The vet examined Scritch and told us that he would be fine, except for a broken paw and a few bald patches. He also said that if it wasn't for him, I might have been dead.
From then on, Scritch has his own place at the table, and every night, he eats what we eat. And he eats without a word of
complaint. He has since stopped throwing food at his Cooty and has been a little better behaved. Though, not much. He is still
a little snobby as you can see in this picture!
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