Amarula rules by the iron paw

Last updated 05:00 20/11/2012
Princess Amarula

Princess Amarula knows who runs her house, and it's not those on two-legs who 'work'.

Relevant offers

Pets who rule the roost

Pet of the Day: Katniss Diary of a dangerous dog owner Pets who rule: My dog gets more mail than me Pets who rule the roost: Blacky the wheelchair cat Pets who rule: He loves his chair - to pieces Pets who rule ... Injury no setback for Richie McCaw, the dog Pets who rule: I can't bear to put him down Pets who rule the roost ... My dog hates the internet You can't keep a good dog down Pets who rule: Misty's first Christmas havoc

It has come to my attention that one of my humans has been telling lies about who rules the house.

I understand that they think it is my brother, Coruba, aka: Lap Ninja.

My little brother, Sambuca, is also under the impression that he rules.

Well, I thought I would set the record straight beginning with the truth.

I am the only girl fur-kid in the house, but that doesn't stop me from having things the Amarula way.

I like things done my way or I will throw a tantrum and scratch the sofa while looking at my human with a very disapproving expression.

They get right away that I am not happy and quickly run to my aid.

I know that they don’t like it that I go round to the front of the house because of the road, so most mornings when we are let out, I will hurry to the front and tap on the glass door.

Even though they are rushing around getting ready for the work thing, they still have time to let me in.

I have managed to trick my humans, aka: slaves, into obeying my every chirp and chatter, all I have to do is look sweetly at them and rub my head on some furniture and I have them under my control.

They will follow me into the kitchen and tickle my tummy while I eat, I really like that so most days this will happen four or five times an evening, since I am a grazer.

Our slaves are also quite good at worshipping us, kissing our paws, stroking our head and tickling our tummies.

I have pretended to be disapproving of these PDAs, so that the neighbour’s cats don’t all want to live here too.

Every night, my slave carries me to bed and makes sure I am comfortable, covers me with my blanket and kisses me good night.

If I wake up during the night and feel like knocking things over just for fun, my slave rushes to my aid, thinking I could be hurt – these slaves, you gotta love their commitment to our kind.

Now while they are at this thing called 'work' I will sleep most of the day and if they are lucky, I will bring them a treat...or not.

View all contributions
Ad Feedback
Special offers

Featured Promotions

Sponsored Content