Zoloft has been the most verbal protester of my imprisionment. She has consistently picketed outside of the bedroom door and cried every night, until The Hater goes to bed or closes her into the bedroom. If she's seen me in the hall, she immediately runs and cries to me, only to meet the door. She doesn't understand and has been most pitiful.
Today has been my first day to spend time outside of prison, and she hasn't left my side. This morning she talked to me for about thirty minutes straight -- which consists of relentless meowing, to which I talk back to her -- and we have a conversation of sorts. She just talked and talked this morning while I was reheating leftovers.
She was crying with much urgency, like she wanted me to know she didn't like how I shut the door in her face. And when I started asking her about The Hater shutting her up in the bedroom? She started crying louder, like she was telling on him.
Her antics woke him up, and he joined us. She's either stood guard or slept within four feet of me all afternoon. After my shower she moved to her perch, but has since woken and came back to me, talking.
I'm still not petting on her yet, but I think she's just happy that I'm out of the room for a while. Come to think of it -- so am I... The Hater's vote makes it unanimous: the yeas have it.