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Get Off My Back
I love fucking with cats. This cat is not mine. This is Critter. Critter is super old. He carries this stuffed toy around the house. Critter is a cool cat who clearly loves being fucked with.
Why Do I Love a Fucktard?
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.
Smelly or Wet, What’s Better?
That was awful!
The smell of skunk is horrible. And hard to hone in on. For example, last night I couldn’t figure where it was coming from, however I kept smelling it. The only thing (besides me) that left my house and returned was my cat. That’s how I narrowed it down.
I threw him outside for the night. Him is my cat…Tommie. Don’t worry. He goes out all the time. My motive: I had a clean body and clean bed sheets I wanted to enjoy. It’s my Sunday night treat.
In order to be let in, Tommie taps on my bedroom window. He climbs on the roof, taps on the window, and peeks in until I get out of bed and let him in through the front door.
He did this at 5:30 am.
As soon as he came it, the smell of skunk returned. Thank goodness for my Twitter friends last night. They could feel my pain and even sent me remedies. The best source was a link to this site. If you have a pet who goes outside, I suggest you save this in your favorites right now.
At 5:30 am, before coffee and in my underwear, I bathed my cat in the kitchen sink. Stupid cat.
He was so mad. I’m convinced if he had a middle finger on that paw he would have flipped me off. In fact, he wouldn’t even look at me. Snob. Smelly, stupid, snobby and soaking wet cat!
