Why Do I Love a Fucktard?
By Susan Mercedes. Filed in Home, Weekend |
So here’s the story. My cat is a fucktard.
He decides to go out at midnight. By out, I mean outside. However see below for his real plan.
I’m all, “Fuck you Tom Tom, I’m going to bed! Bastard!”
His response is best described by a witness:
Well, he never surprises me. He shows up at 4 am wanting to come back in. Yep, that fucktard cat is trained to tap his paw on my bedroom window. Which is like three fucking stories high. He’s a agile cat with great balance, even after being out drinking for the night.
Of course I get up and let him in. Then he does what he does best. Sleeps. All morning long.
Check out his little tongue. He’s dehydrated from all that beer.
I love this stupid fucktard of a cat. Don’t ask me why.
But you know what really pisses me off? Formatting pictures on this blog. I can’t seem to do it. Sorry. I’m done.
Sunday, September 6th 2009 at 10:51 am
He might be exhausted after all that running from Jebro … that’s a full-time job. Just saying.
Susan Mercedes Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 3:02 pm
Laura: My poor cat. Jeeebro wanted him a little too much.
Sunday, September 6th 2009 at 4:41 pm
Ours are indoor only – and one, Gracie, has been known to shoot out the front door and take off down the length of our porch. When I chase he down, she does this weird mewing thing all, “WHAT. THE. HELL. I WAS FREE.”
Susan Mercedes Reply:
September 7th, 2009 at 3:04 pm
Jessica: Cats are assholes. Mine acts like it’s totally normal to make me get out of bed at 4 am to let him in the house.