It's a musical emergency. Or a spell.

Tonight I was fixing dinner while Her Majesty literally sat at my feet and whined. She'd already been fed her daily dose of squishy food, most of which was still sitting there prime for the taking. And it was the kind she tended to slurp down immediately - lobster and chicken, mmmmm. Bleah.

I kept looking at her in an exasperated manner, asking what she wanted. At some point I went against every better judgement I've ever had, and broke into that song by the Spice Girls. And I was fairly appalled at how many of the words I knew.

Then, for no explicable reason, I started bursting into random Motown songs for the next several minutes... At least I didn't burst into flames.

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She's otherwise fine, as far as I can tell. I'm thinking she just needs a permanent lap.