The internet is so speciesist. For a place that is ruled by cats (and no, Sophie, I don’t mean ancient Egypt), you’d think there’d be a less offensive universal symbol for liking something. But you f—ing apes have to go all “I thumb my nose at thee” and rub it in.
If I had two thumbs, I would give this two thumbs up.
I’ve been reading the NY Times lately (it’s in the litter box). Courtney had been bringing home the Daily Nebraskan, but I literally piss on that newspaper and its shoddy excuse for reporting. Anyway, the little cat parasite that makes people crazy is in the news again.
Have you folks failed to figure it out? It’s not the brain-eating parasite that makes you crazy; no, it’s more likely that it is the fuzzy feline you adopted. Exhibit A: Sophie.
Here are some examples of things Sophie does that might drive an otherwise sane human being crazy:
- Meowing incessantly
- Listening to Twee Pop (what the hell is Twee Pop, anyway?)
- Mooning over Edward from Twilight
- Peeing on things
- Climbing the screen door
- Attacking Courtney’s feet while she’s sleeping
- Kicking litter all over the place
- Staring at Courtney while she’s in the shower or on the toilet
- Headbutting Courtney while she’s brushing her teeth
- Biting Courtney
- Hogging the computer
And that’s just what I came up with in one minute. The list is probably endless.
On the other hand, what about what you humans are doing to us? You put all sorts of unhealthy garbage in the food that you feed us. Corn syrup? Really? You leave the toilet cover up and enable our disgusting addiction to toilet water. You keep us cooped up indoors. You train us to hunt with fuzzy toys and then freak out when we bring you an actual dead animal.
Let’s work on not driving each other crazy before we go bringing parasites into the equation.
To be on the safe side, though, you probably shouldn’t keep the litter box in the kitchen. Duh.
From this article, evidence that my palate may be as refined as I keep insisting:
“Cats…do have genes for the receptors that detect the umami flavor.”
So next time I ask for truffle oil drizzled on my kibble, I expect you humans to jump to it.
Tomorrow is Mother’s Day, and I know that it is up to me to come up with a gift.
(Sophie is not exactly the freshest sprig of catnip in the bag, if you know what I mean.)
Anyway, I have been grooming us both like crazy, but there’s so much pressure to produce a hairball on this otherwise insignificant date. May 13th? F— you, Hallmark, and your conspiracy to commercialize affection.
If I can’t get a hairball hacked up, my back up plan is to drag some paper into the kitchen, knock over some tea, and make some adorable pawprint art. Sophie can probably manage that, too, but lately it’s been harder to find paper lying around. So what if I like a little nibble at the corners? I deserve a treat now and then, and I’m not talking those disgusting dental treats, either.
All right, back to licking myself.