Bogart didn’t want us to go to work today. He rubbed against my legs and flopped on the ground. I rubbed his belly and reminded him that someone had to earn the kibble money.
“No problem,” he said. “Humans will pay to rub my belly.”
His eyes glinted playfully, and I extracted my hand from his pincer attack.
“They’re not going to want to pay to get clawed,” I advised him.
Bogart displayed his belly to best effect, but that feral look was still in his eyes.
“Clawing is free with purchase,” he decided.
Cats have no business acumen whatsoever.