Four thousand years ago cats were worshiped as though they were gods. They remember this. Walking on our cars is their passive aggressive way of saying they wish to return to the old ways.
For the record the newest edition to my family is named Snowba’al. He's not even given the opportunity to touch my 4Runner.
Day 983 of my captivity: My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I never less must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.
Day 984 of my captivity: Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a “good little hunter” I am.(B*******!!)
Day 986 of my captivity: Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow … but at the top of the stairs. I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released – and seems to be more willing to return. He is obviously retarded.
Day 987 of my captivity. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so his is safe – for now…
7 comments:
It's all a part of cross-bearing.
Because they are like unto gods & can do as they please.
At least that's what all my cats tell me. :)
Four thousand years ago cats were worshiped as though they were gods. They remember this. Walking on our cars is their passive aggressive way of saying they wish to return to the old ways.
For the record the newest edition to my family is named Snowba’al. He's not even given the opportunity to touch my 4Runner.
Excerpts from a Cat’s Diary
Day 983 of my captivity: My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I never less must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.
Day 984 of my captivity: Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a “good little hunter” I am.(B*******!!)
Day 986 of my captivity: Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow … but at the top of the stairs. I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released – and seems to be more willing to return. He is obviously retarded.
Day 987 of my captivity. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so his is safe – for now…
KATS RULE !
And the mistress of this house, Mandie, suggests this for your reading pleasure: http://www.crossings.org/thursday/2009/thur022609.shtml
Off topic, but she found it a good read.
...you'd never see a dog do this...
RUDY!!!! I love you, babe. Hugs and kisses.
Post a Comment