There is a husband, a juvenile, another cat, and a guinea pig in the house who all need love and attention, too. I understand that I am YOUR human, and you are MY cat; you have to be MY cat, because no one else likes you (which is partly your fault, seeing as how you hiss at everybody, then jump on my shoulder and look smug).
But just because I’m playing with the pig it doesn’t mean I love you any less. Get that through your demented little head.
Because if you pee on my purse again I’m shoving a cork up your little kitty hoo-ha.
Once I came home from my babysitting job, where there is a young un-neutered male cat. My own adult, fixed male cat started to spray my boots as I stood there!
He doesn’t have a hoo-ha, though. Unless you count the other hoo-ha.
Y’all are right. A hoo-ha is a cooter. Poo-ha works for me as an alternate name for the ol’ brown starfish. And I know a ha-ha is a sunken fence, and a ho-ho is a really deep sunken fence designed by Bloody Stupid Johnson, so what names does that leave us for the place where the pee comes out? Pee-ha? Pee-ho? Pee-hose?