Inside the Mind of a Cranky Old Cat
arrrgh... Everything was fine until these babies came along! I hate them. Now that big milky one forgets to feed me. And she never pets me. Babies, babies, babies -- they get petted! They get fed! Arghhh... And she put their stupid playmat with those stupid hanging animals -- a purple elephant? I am a blue cat, so I can't say much, but I do say it's stupid and idiotic and I hate it and she put it right where my sunbeam is and that's my spot, goddamn it! Cough, cough, wheeze. This is the reward I get for 17 years of living? This is my reward for gracing you with my presence? Mon dieu! and fuck you!
You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to scratch this part here with the zebra, in fact, I'm going to scratch that stupid smile off its face, and then I'm going to... yes, I am! I am! I'm going to poop right on it. Ohhhh, yes, that feels GOOD! Oh? You don't like that? Well, sneeze, sneeze, fine! Then I'm going to limp into the living and poop on your Pottery Barn rug. Oh? You don't like that, either? Well, then I'm going to creep back into the family room and poop on your four-month-old Berber carpet. Oh? You don't like that? Well, I don't like you! So I'm going to heave my arthritic body onto your nightstand and then make the last leap of my pathetic life to land on your bed and piss all over your Garnet Hill (clearance) sheets. And tonight, when you can't stay awake for one more second because your damn babies have been making their insufferable demands all day, you will crawl into bed and wonder what smells so so so terrible! And your husband will say it's the barbeque. The barbeque! Ha, he is an idiot too! It's my elixir of revenge! And then you will be forced to get up and change the sheets and I will laugh, cough, laugh, wheeze, laugh, laugh.
Hey, wait! I can't live outside! Let me back in!
(And you would think that after a night outside, eating ant-ridden dry food and watching for raccoons, the damn cat would be reformed. But, you point out, quite sensibly, do I expect Paris Hilton has been reformed too? No, I do not. Anyway, he snuck back in, while I was taking car seats out to the van, and went straight to the playmat to poop again! So you know what, Blue? You can stay out there all summer!!)
You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to scratch this part here with the zebra, in fact, I'm going to scratch that stupid smile off its face, and then I'm going to... yes, I am! I am! I'm going to poop right on it. Ohhhh, yes, that feels GOOD! Oh? You don't like that? Well, sneeze, sneeze, fine! Then I'm going to limp into the living and poop on your Pottery Barn rug. Oh? You don't like that, either? Well, then I'm going to creep back into the family room and poop on your four-month-old Berber carpet. Oh? You don't like that? Well, I don't like you! So I'm going to heave my arthritic body onto your nightstand and then make the last leap of my pathetic life to land on your bed and piss all over your Garnet Hill (clearance) sheets. And tonight, when you can't stay awake for one more second because your damn babies have been making their insufferable demands all day, you will crawl into bed and wonder what smells so so so terrible! And your husband will say it's the barbeque. The barbeque! Ha, he is an idiot too! It's my elixir of revenge! And then you will be forced to get up and change the sheets and I will laugh, cough, laugh, wheeze, laugh, laugh.
Hey, wait! I can't live outside! Let me back in!
(And you would think that after a night outside, eating ant-ridden dry food and watching for raccoons, the damn cat would be reformed. But, you point out, quite sensibly, do I expect Paris Hilton has been reformed too? No, I do not. Anyway, he snuck back in, while I was taking car seats out to the van, and went straight to the playmat to poop again! So you know what, Blue? You can stay out there all summer!!)
posted by Mary Ellen at
12:26 PM
4 Comments:
*snort*
I freaking love it.
He could be sick! Wouldn't that make you feel bad
He is not sick! He is naughty.
If he were sick, I think he'd be pooping randomly around the house. I don't think the baby playmat is a random target -- nor do I think my bed is! It took a lot of effort to get up there. (And I note how convenient your charity is, Pamela-la-la: You're not allowed to have pets in your condo!)
It's like "Aristocats," only Blue isn't charming and sweet like Lady.
Come to think of it, Blue is more like "The Aristocrats."
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