There is no scorn

[silverthorne]

Like the scorn of a collared cat.

Foot has her rabies and name tag on now. She's not happy with me. Oh, she's happy enough to take the treats I offered afterwards in order to coax her out from under the bed.

But now she's laying beside the bed and glaring at me when I come into view.

I feel amused and bad at the same time.

But at least now I have a better chance of finding her if she somehow ends up outside.