Cats with low self-esteem

I hate Sunday afternoons. I am miserable and angry WITHOUT FAIL every Sunday afternoon. Call it the after-effects of original sin. Today one of our cats (I suspect Harriet) peed through several layers of blankets on our bed. I’m sitting here right now, cold and shivery, and I have no frumpifying blanket to wrap around myself because they’re all in the wash.

“I didn’t know cats would be this much trouble,” sighed Himself sadly to himself, as he bundled up the stinking bedsheets. “I thought they’d be more like mobile fish.”

He handled this catastrophe with more equanimity than I. I gave my four-letter word vocabulary a hearty workout. What is the deal with these cats? Has Max sworn vengeance upon us? Did Harriet wake up this morning and say, “Well, they feed me and play with me and let me snuggle on their warm laps and provide me with rugs to scratch; I think I’ll give them a little something in return, LIKE MAYBE A PUDDLE OF URINE”? We’re seriously at the point where we’d like to tool over to the Deam Wilderness Area, boot them out the back of the car, and scream, “SUCK IT, NERDS!” as we drive away, cackling insanely. Push me much further, CAT, and I’ll feed you to ravenous wolves. Don’t think I won’t.


~ by themeansister on March 1, 2009.

3 Responses to “Cats with low self-esteem”

  1. I found a good home for your cats:

    Ok, not really, but I thought that you would be angry enough about the urine-soaked bed garments that you might find it funny.

  2. There are ways to get rid of cats, you know….

  3. Sickly Child, you are JUST SICK. But I’m considering this option…

    David, don’t I know it! How would you like Max dangling in your garage, tongue lolling out? Not as impressive as a deer, but still.

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