The cat looks up at the carton of eggs and meows piteously, then stares at April with eyes full of need. 

"You can make that face at me all you want, and at the end of the day I still won't own a litterbox. Get lost."

Another meow as she puts the carton of eggs away, and then the cat continues to watch as the rest of the groceries are put in their places. When they're all gone the cat pulls itself up onto all fours and sidles out of the room, making sure to rub itself against April's thighs on the way out. It pads its way out the door and hops up onto the loveseat, curling up once more. 

"You're a pest," she says, closing the door.

When next April leaves for groceries, the cat is there, lying in a small bit of sunlight on the cushions. It perks up its head as the door opens, and turns to look. 

"I'm getting bacon today, and you're not having any."

The cat's ears twitch, but of course, it doesn't understand the word bacon, and so responds as normal, watching her attentively and occasionally licking a paw, at least until the door is shut behind her.

Once the door is safely closed and locked, the cat stretches, jumps down from its perch on the chair and rubs up against her shins, before jumping back up to curl up in its patch of sun. 

"This is a transparent ploy to gain access to my bacon and I'm not falling for it."

Down the street she goes.

The cat has no reason to pay attention to her any more, and yawns and shifts, not watching April as she leaves at all. 

She goes; she comes back. Is the cat still there and pretending to nap?

It is! Well, not pretending, of course not. It's definitely napping. No pretend here. Look at it, breathing softly in and out, eyes closed. It's fast asleep, clearly. 

"If any fuzzy creamsicles in the area want to inspect my groceries, now's the time," she remarks, opening her front door. "You're not fooling anybody."

The cat can't understand what she's saying, of course. But it can react to the sound of the door opening, stretch, and lazily stalk its way into the house, like it owns the place, and alight itself in the usual spot in the kitchen. 

No eggs this time, but, as promised, there is bacon.

The bacon definitely gets a reaction. The cat perks its head up and meows plaintively, eyes tracking the package of meat. 

"No! My bacon, not yours!" The bacon goes in the fridge. She closes the fridge. "Go beg food off of someone with a heart."

The cat meows and slumps on the floor, then turns to look away from April and starts washing itself, not paying her the slightest bit of attention. 

"Oh, that's rich coming from a home invader."

She puts away the rest of her groceries.

The can pointedly ignores her while she does this, though eventually it does turn its attention back on her, once everything is put away. It looks up at her, begging with its eyes. 

"Get lost. No bacon for you."

The cat stretches lazily, and pulls itself up to its feet, stalking over to April to rub up against her shins. And then, politely, she walks out of the house, and hops back up onto the porch swing, finding the patch of sunlight once more. 

"I'm so glad we reached an understanding." She closes the door again.

And the cat curls up to sleep in its accustomed place.