Ruling the Roost

I know the saying about “dogs were domesticated, cats moved in because there was food.” I know about, “dogs have masters, cats have servants.” But this creature is getting completely out of hand.
I bought a new computer chair the other day. It’s a nice one and, unfortunately, Molly likes it too. We compete for it much of the day, but I’m bigger than she is so I routinely win, and she does not take that particularly well. My desk is ell-shaped, and she crouches at my right elbow, waiting like a little fuzzy vulture for me to abandon the chair. No more hanging out behind the monitor, as that is too far away from the chair.

Remember the cartoon with the vultures? The caption reads, "Patience my ass, I'm going to kill something."

I draw the line at her new trick of poking me in the back with her paw while I’m typing. Trying to push me out of the chair? Or merely suggesting that I leave? Whatever, it’s going a little to far. Lurking is one thing; proactive efforts to take possession is a little much.