Kitty Logic

Oh please, you’re not surprised.  You left me with two bowls of stale food for three nights and didn’t even leave the window open.  I don’t care if it rained for a night—that’s three days I couldn’t see outside!  Do you have any idea how small this apartment is?  How many times I went from the bed to the couch to the floor, bed couch floor bed couch floor…there’s nothing else to do!  Oh wait, that’s right, you left me a furball full of catnip dangling from the kitchen table.  Was that supposed to keep me entertained?

You know, I can deal with the crunchy food.  I can deal with the boredom.  I can deal with the cold bed at night.  But I draw the line at the water.  You may think I can’t see, but as soon as you put that giant water thing on the counter, the one that keeps filling the bowl when you’re gone, I knew.  I knew you were leaving and weren’t coming back the next day.

Fine.  Whatever.  I hate you, but whatever.  And then you went and filled it at the sink.  You were rushing all over the place and the good water in the fridge was empty, but sink water?  Oh, I waspissed.

So I cleaned.  I got all those little mats out of my fur and swallowed.  I cleaned my back and belly and between my toes and under my tail and even licked as far under my chin as I could.

And then I waited.

I waited for it to get all stuck together and gooey in my stomach.  I waited until it hurt to stretch, and then I jumped on the bed.

You didn’t see it at first because it wasn’t right in front of the door—you never see things unless they’re right in front of you.  So you fed me and pet me and then you went to get in bed.

And there, waiting on your pillow in a perfect little puddle of bile with a crusty top, was the product of all my cleaning.  A gift, if you will.

Welcome home, jerk.


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