You know how to get them to wash their butts properly? Just squirt it with water. And as a bonus, you get to take a little revenge on them by squirting water on their butt. 
Wisdom from an “Archie” comic, said by Archie’s dad to the cat - “You’re always on the wrong side of this door.”
I suppose I could relabel it The Squirt Bottle O’Bumwash. 
I hate my cat because every night when I tell him “Okay, Max, it’s time for humans and kittens to go to bed” (yes, that’s what I really say), he inevitably hears that as “Okay, Max, GO APESHIT!” I usually end up grabbing him from whatever appendage he’s gnawing on and putting him in the hallway. If I have to get up to pee in the middle of the night or something, I let him back in and he curls up with me and is absolutely adorable. There’s just something about 10.30 pm that turns him into monster kitty.
In order of age:
I hate Ajax because he doesn’t meow, he quacks like a duck, usually between 3 and 4 in the morning.
I hate Milo because he can eat everything in sight and never gain weight, sheds and entire cat weight of fur daily, and suffers from seperation anxiety.
I hate Mrs. Peel because she is a rude and vile pain in the ass to poor old arthritic Ajax and she pulls the covers off my pillow to sleep ( and shed copiously) on MY pillow every day while I’m at work.
I hate Nijel the Destroyer for bringing in crunchy snacks to enjoy next to the bed at night (yum! the heads are best part!), for going outside in the snow before coming up to get warm under the covers on my side of the bed, for getting stuck 25 feet into the heating duct requiring hours of panic and several hundred dollars worth of repairs, and for leaving exploded birds all over the house almost on a daily basis. He’s a great cat.
Rotten bastards. I wonder how they’d like it if I took in the semi-feral black cat that’s been hanging around cadging food.
I hate our cat because he’s feral, lives under the furniture and skitters away at the approach of anyone. He’s black, so I never see him until I’m right on top of him, and then he darts away and scares the crap out of me. We continue to give him a comfortable home, plenty to eat, we clean his litterbox (OK, my wife cleans his litterbox) and we even make sure he has his shots when he’s supposed to, which is a pain in the ass of the first degree because we have to herd him into an inescapable corner, wrap him in a towel, pop him in a cat carrier, hold him down at the vet’s office, where he has to be zipped into a canvas bag …
In return for all of our care and expense, we get hissed at any time we get close to wherever he’s hiding at the time. He torments my wife’s Yorkie until she attacks him, usually at three in the morning, rendering the night thereafter unsleepable.
I really, really hate that f***ing cat.
You can’t. It sounds like he belongs to Sunrazor!
I hate them both, Elvin and Snowy, because they shed constantly.
I hate Elvin when he wakes me up early because he’s feeling lonely.
I hate Snowy when she won’t stop head butting me to be petted. Just come and sit on my lap dangit (she won’t).
I hate them both because they necessitate litter boxes.
I hate Elvin for clawing the couch to shreds. (though I suppose that’s partly my fault for not being more diligent with the soft paws)
Pain in the ass mostly. But just cute enough that I don’t kill them.
Bear with me…it’s sortof involved.
The other cat and the dog both have eating issues. When I first got the dog it took me 2 years to get her to put on any weight at all. She was so seriously skinny that people at the dog park would give me dirty looks. I fed her “on demand” and constantly had to think of treats and tricks to get her to eat. So she always had a bowl full at all times, one that it would take her at least 2 days to finish, even with treats and tricks.
Cat 1 came along and was just about as picky as the dog, BUT she liked dog food instead of cat food. So, I had to retrain the dog to eat at specified times so that the darned cat wouldn’t fill up on dog food. The dog couldn’t care less, I swear she invites the cats to eat out of her bowl.
Okay, so I finally got a halfway decent routine for the two anorexics. Then along came cat 2. She is a rescue cat and was about 6 months old when I got her. She ate normally for about the first couple of months, and then…
For some strange reason about a month ago she started scarfing food as if she was absolutely starving (she’s not, I feed the cats on top of the dryer so that the dog, who picks at her own food, but likes cat food, won’t get it). She would stuff her little face into the bowl and just start wolfing it as fast as she could. At first it was funny and cute, until it started coming up only moments after she ate!
Arrrrrgggh. So now, I have a very annoying and detailed feeding routine. Cat 2 has to have her food scattered 1 piece deep and with the pieces as far apart as possible, on the place mat on the dryer. This forces her to slow down and then she can actually keep her food down. Cat 1 gets her food someplace else so that she doesn’t have to compete with cat 2 who takes up the whole dryer (though she’s tiny) in her mad dash to eat breakfast or dinner.
Cat 2 will realize that cat 1 is eating from a nice bowl in the living room, so her food MUST be different or better and she’ll come in, even though she still has food on the dryer and will boot Cat 1 away from her bowl, or else she’ll go for the dog food (Cat 1 is like the dog, could not care less if she eats now, or next week). So it’s not as if I can just give them all their own food and do my own thing, I have to babysit their dishes until everyone eats.
Cat 2 is gonna die next time she barfs on the carpet…tap, tap, tap
I hate Lucretia for trying to eat me at 0300. I hate her for her air raid siren imitation every time I use the phone. I hate her habit of shredding paper and knocking things off shelves. I woke up one morning to the sounds of destruction, and my first conscious thought was “I must kill the cat”.
Let’s see.
I hate Ms Tree for eating the boys’ food.
She has diabetes and will pee up a storm if allowed to eat regular food.
I hate the boys for not eating the all their food before their sister finds it.
I hate that all three believe that on demand feeding is going to happen against all evidence to the contrary.
Shadow is litterbox incapable. He walks in and whizes. OUT OF THE BOX. Thank goodness for puppy training pads. “CLEAN UP AISLE 7!”
Ms Tree craps in front of the clotheswasher. “CLEAN UP AISLE 7!”
BraveHeart(3yo) trys to dominate (read: HUMP) his sister, who is a nice fixed older(14yo) cat and doesn’t have any interest in sex. So that creates stress. “CLEAN UP AISLE 7!”
I love the “I want to be TOP CAT” fight attempts that BH goes for with Shadow(15yo). He has consistantly lost the battle, be it of wills or actual claws.
I hate TJ because he likes to wake me up by walking on my face. And he is not a small cat.
I hate Tiffany because she thinks that a hairball is the perfect gift to leave in my bed, or in my shoes, or on the rug, or…
And I hate both of them because they both shed enough cat hair, every single day, to knit about FIVE MORE CATS. It should not be physically possible for them to lose this much hair every day and not be bald by now, I swear.
I hate Cassy for taking up way too much of the bed. I also hate her “Lassie” imitation. She will scream at the top of her voice “Timmy’s in the well! Help! help! Help!” but when I follow her, she just wants me to either, go to bed, or get up, depending, of course, on what part of the day it is.
I hate 'Lil for being a drooling, 'fraidy cat. She gets up on the foot of the bed, stands there kneeding and whining, but when I try to pet her, she runs away, only to rinse and repeat. When I do capture her, she purrs and drools until she gets enough, then bolts once again.
I hate Max for being a bully. Also for insisting he MUST sleep on my hair, while putting his wet, cold nose in my ear while he purrs as loud as a leaf blower.
I’m going to marry Cervaise when I grow up.
I hate my kitty because she pukes on the floor most nights. Not every night, because then I’d look for it. No, she doesn’t do it all the time, but every time it’s on the bed, or right next to it - where I stick my bag or my foot when I come in.
And she’s old, and generally pretty reasonable about food and attention. But when she’s hungry…a couple of days ago, she decided she was hungry at 0700. I’d gone to bed at 0330. I had no canned cat food. I tried to give her dry, but to no avail. I had a cat sitting next to my head, meowing like hell.
After an hour and a half of trying to ignore her, I realized I was in a war of attrition I would not win. I walked to the convienence store and got some food. And the two of us got some more sleep.
Well, looks like I’m going to have to get out the squirt bottle because Elvin (the little dear) woke me up again this morning (the third morning in a row). The fucker! I got to bed at around 1:30 am and he started scratching at the door at 6:30. He’s lucky to still be alive.
I hate my cat for nearly dying two weeks ago. But, just as I had braced myself for her either dying on her own or me having to put her to sleep, she improved to the extent where I couldn’t think about putting her to sleep. After two weeks of stress and worry and expensive hospital care, I have her home again and have to give her half a dozen medications twice a day, plus insulin shots (because she’s diabetic now) and tube feedings until she’s eating on her own.
But I am very relieved and glad to have her alive, and as long as she stays alive, it’ll be worth all this trouble.