It’s (belated) Finn Friday!

Yesterday was Finn Friday, but I wasn’t about to honor our way-less-than-benevolent feline overlord on his national holiday this week. He simply does not deserve it. You see, our feline overlord is a major, colossal, giant, uber jerk face doody head. 

Let me explain: On Thursday, I showed up to worship him at our regularly scheduled time. I walked into his manor, announced that I was ready to worship his highness and waited for the beauty king to appear. Nothing. I called for him multiple times. Nothing. I shook his bag of treats and sprinkled a few Whiskas Temptations onto the kitchen floor. Nothing. 

I began to worry that someone had accidentally allowed him to slip out a door, as he has a history of such behavior (he has walked right out the front door a time or two before, in front of his horrified family). I began to search the house for Finn, calling for him the entire time. I peeked at all his known napping spots. Nothing.  

NOTHING!

As I walked up the stairs — panicking and reaching for my phone to call his mom — I find the super jerk, casually resting at the top of the stairs, satisfied:
He knows what he did. He’s proud of it. JERK!