Not difficult. I will even go so far as to say cookies are, in fact, a desire, not a need.
It pains me to say that.
Mother fed our mid-day hay today, I got my grain, and there's clean water in the trough. They always check three times a day, lest a hole develop (hasn't happened yet, but you can't be too careful) or another unfortunate squirrel/bird/racoon incident occurs. I even got cookies. But...
I did not get brushed! I'm not sure if you're aware, but Mother has been a little lax in the "coming to visit me" (ME!) section of her job description, but I've grown accustomed, I suppose. I never complain. Usually though, when she does come up, I get brushed and fussed on a bit. Today she fed all of us, gave me my cookies, and left. Uhhh... aren't you Forgetting Something? And it was nicely above freezing; a good thorough brushing that messes up my piloerection would not have been frowned upon the way it is when it is colder out. When it's cold, I take care of it all just fine; don't ruin things!
Anyway, apparently Mother was working on something she called taxes. I'm not sure what they are, but she seems both happy and sad about them.
I appreciate my cookies, but sometimes I wish Mother had been born a horse like me... then she would know, as I do:
Life is simple
Now, who needs a hug?*
*Shameless re-use of this photo because it is a masterpiece of cuteness and adorability.