Dear Cats of the World #2

Thank you for making my carpet have more color than the calico hair around your erupting projectile head.

Do you not have the decency to vomit on the kitchen tile?  Even when I hear that daily “ack, ack, ack” and move you to the kitchen, you’ll rush back to the carpet to unload your hairball/cat food/potpourri mix.

Quit overeating you f***ing bulimic.  You’re not a bear.

Hybernation is not in your future, although a strangling might be.

I changed your diet.  That didn’t work.  I restricted your caloric intake.  I gave up on that idea.  Your incessant meows for treats pushed me to nearly shove skewers in my eardrums.

I bought you toys.  I bought you a cat castle.  I even bought you catnip, which I think might be the feline crystal meth.  And what’s your favorite toy?  A rolled-up piece of paper.

Think about how much I could’ve saved if I knew the only toy you wanted was trash.

All this money I’ve spent to cater to your selfish needs, and how do you thank me?  With vomit.

Maybe I need to shave you.  Let’s see how many hairballs you can muster up when all you have to lick is your hairless ass.

Bundle of furry joy?

No.

Demonic feline yacking machine?

Yes.

You’re a prick, cat.

Just a prick.