Ziva and the Left Overs

Mom has Olive Garden left overs.

And she is not sharing with me.

I have tried all possible ways to let her know I want some. Just a taste!

I’ve tried sniffing and looking innocently at her.

I’ve tried looking over my shoulder, out of the corner of my eye, at her, then the dish, then her again.

I’ve tried crawling in her lap after it.

I’ve tried distracting her by going for her water dish.

I tried crawling in her lap again.

I’ve tried distracting her by going for her headphones.

I tried crawling in her lap a third time.

I’ve tried distracting her by going for the pen holder that hangs on high.

Oh, wait. What is this? She is setting it aside? For me?! Blast, she pulled it away again. Does she not know that whatever is Mom’s is to be shared with the Dark Empress of All? I am quite sure I would love whatever it is she has. After all, I do like anything she eats. Plus, I smell cheese!

I tried just simply reaching out after the bowl in an effort to hook some of the yummy goodness on the edges.

I tried staring at her intently, aiming to get the bowl as a prize for winning the staring contest.

I tried coming at it from behind.

I tried coming at it from the left.

I tried coming at it from the right and below.

I’ve even tried licking my arm and getting my tongue stuck out of my mouth for the cute factor.

Sadly, all to no avail.

Mom is just too good!

Wait, what? Hold the phone….

…

At last! She is allowing me my turn!

…

I must make sure this isn’t a trap. I shall make subtle moves in it’s direction.

…

No counter actions? Really? I can have it? At last! Mom does love me after all! Om nom no…

…

Too much sauce and not enough cheese Mom.

———

And that was when she galloped off to the water dish on the other side of the room as if to get rid of the nasty taste on her tongue.