Stop taking her side

Do you know what that little rat just did? She bumped the arm that was holding my coffee. She is still alive because the mug was tilted toward me, rather than the laptop. The mug was in my hand, because when it was on the arm of the futon, she was coming very close to both knocking it over and dipping her tail in. Apparently, she thinks she is entitled to be fed before her breakfast time, and she thinks she can wear me down by whining non-stop, but we've been over this: her breakfast time comes no earlier than 6:15, and annoying mommy only makes it later.

Why am I telling you all this? Because I hear a lot of "oh, poor Gracie" (in reference, for example, to her having got her fat ass stuck behind the wall when we she first moved in) and "but she's so cute." Well, there are days-- and she hasn't wielded her poop as a weapon of psychological warfare in a while-- but there are days when I think, that's it, asshole: keep it up and you're going back to the shelter. And then, of course, I think, 'I've made a commitment.' To which I respond, 'but that unwritten contract did not account for psychological warfare with scatological weaponry.' But it may as well have; she's a cat. And I took her on. Which is not to say that no point is too far, but I have to admit that none of the behavior so far, albeit very annoying, has reached it.