The most important one in the house

In case there are any lingering questions about who is really important around here, this post should clear them all up.

Her name is (or was) Chelsie, but she now uses the alias Kitty. She thinks she is a human, and she is NOT happy about my presence or Michael's. He is allergic to her, so she has been banished to the porch while he's around. This keeps his eyes from turning the colour of cranberry juice.

Kitty is upset about the new restrictions, and it did not take long for her to figure out that our presence is the reason she can't have the run of the house. This is the same cat who used to have her own chair at the dinner table -- it was an old-fashioned high chair, and if she couldn't sit in it while we ate, she would make her displeasure known by jumping all over us, shedding hair into the spaghetti.

And this is no ordinary cat. I see that her plate (not feeding tray) must have been lost in the move, but she used to refuse to eat unless her food was on a gold-rimmed crystal plate. This is not a joke. But please, take a look at her water dish:

Yes, that's a wine glass, and yes, it's on a serving dish, and YES, THAT IS ICE IN THE GLASS.