When we make a sandwich for lunch and turn our backs for just a second, it is not necessary to snatch off the top piece of bread and eat it. Though you think you are being subtle and we won’t notice the missing piece, it is really quite obvious that what was once a complete sandwich is now naked to the world. Also, slurping the top of my salad leaves me with an unpleasant quandary - do I toss out the entire salad or just remove the slurped and adjacent items?
Stick with what’s in your bowl and stop trying to eat the rest of the world (including yard detritus, rocks, stray socks etc).
When I ranted earlier, I did it without realizing that today is your 6th birthday.
Happy Birthday, Mackie!
I hope you enjoyed your special treat - in our tongue, we call that a “sausage biscuit from McDonald’s”, but in your mind I’m pretty sure you call it “An Offering from The Holy Shrine Where Food Is Passed from The Building of Good Smells to The Moving Room of Sophie Smells.”
I also gave you half of my roast beef panini. Food-wise, it’s been a good day, huh?
I realize that, being a Cornish Rex, you are an inbred Freak of Nature. I had no idea of your potential when I agreed to adopt you.
In spite of the fact you look much more like a space alien than a cat, I do love you. You get much more than the 1/7 share of attention you are entitled to. You are needy.
However…
eating bamboo is not good for you. Not really a problem, since you have eaten all the bamboo and I no longer have any.
-eating the one pineapple top I managed to grow…see above.
-when you make a run for the border and escape into the wilds of the house you know you aren’t supposed to be in, don’t act pissy when I don’t love on you when I catch you. Loving on you is rewarding you for bad behavior.
Even though you are supposedly a show quality cat, I am very glad your reproductive capabilities have been removed. You are just freaking weird…but Momma loves her little freak of nature…
There are 3 fountains in your home. Stop facing off over the fountain in the kitchen. Go get drinks in the bathrooms. I know you drink there, I see you do it.
And please stop fighting over the kitchen fountain at dark 30 in the morning. Your slave hates getting woken up by death screams and howls just to see you facing off over water. If you don’t stop it, I’ll do something drastic like close the bedroom door and make you sleep on the cold hard floor.
Whichever one of you fuckers has suddenly forgotten litterbox etiquette is in for a rude awakening when I catch you. The only reason the Hammer of God hasn’t fallen on you is because I can’t be certain which of you is doing it. This pee insurgency will be met with ruthless force.
Also I worry that there may be a health problem so really you should let me catch you so I can take you to a vet. If you’re sick I will try to help you. If you’re healthy you will be murdered.
How many bones were buried in the grass? Seriously? I’m sure I just fucked the mower blades by running over at least three of them. Next time I find one that way, I’m jamming it up your ass.
Stella,
Why do you insist on dragging behind me when we go for a run? For Pete’s sake, dog, I can hear your toenails dragging on the sidewalk! I know you aren’t tired because you want to play fetch as soon as we get home. Here’s the deal: I’ll indulge fetch if you’ll indulge running. I know you can do it.
You are the perfect dog in almost every way, but I do have one request. Please stop getting older. In five or six years, I will be taking you for the one last trip to the vet, and I would like to postpone that for as long as possible.
We love you, you goofy cat. You know we love you, and we know you love us. So please cut down on showing us by lickiing every available inch of our skin just because it’s there. Once in a while is ok, for a short time. But really, we do shower, we don’t need thorough cleanings every time we re-enter the room. Thank you.
p.s. It’d be highly appreciated if you could restrain yourself from pawing each and every thing off each and every counter/desk/table top as if they offend you by being on your same plane.
Dear Murphy;
We know you love bags, and we indulge you in your desire to be inside each and every one of them in the house. It’s cute. What’s not so cute is when you decide to start eating them, so please knock it off, as you really don’t want to end up at the vet’s so they can remove yards of plastic from your gut. Also, the neighbors are beginning to think I am abusing you when you meowl and cry at the screen door every time I am out there having a smoke. I promise, I’m not going anywhere, a fact you should have figured out after 3+ years.
To both of you: We’d appreciate it if you’d stop acting like wearing a collar is the end of life as you know it; if you could just get used to them we would LET you outside once in a while, ok? As it is, I feel like a Dachau torturer every time we attempt putting one on. Also, if you could return the last 6 or so, from wherever you buried them once you got them off, it’d be easier on the budget, thanks!
You’ve been housebroken for seven months, now. You don’t need or even want to go out every two hours during the day. You know it and I know it. So why in the name of a single decent night’s sleep can’t you let go of the 2:30, 4:30 and 7 a.m. pit stops? That I can accommodate your demanding schedule while sleep walking should not factor in. Time to dog up and hold it for the whole long night.