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It’s always funny to me how, when catching up with friends, they’ll sometimes ask “So, how are the kitties?”
The answer is always a (thankfully) boring, “Oh, they’re good. Healthy.” But, why do we ask about each other’s pets? They are very simple creatures. They eat, drink, play, sleep, whine to eat more, shed, and find the only rug in a hardwood-floored apartment to vomit on because vomiting on the floor would make things easier for me to clean, and repeat.
Do we expect the answer will be something like this?
Fluffy RaccoonTail is busy hatching his plan to take down the internet’s latest cat darling, Colonel Meow. The Colonel’s arrogance and perma-sneer offends him. Also, like me, he likes to give back. So he’s set up a nonprofit to provide birdwatching opportunities for disadvantaged indoor cats with nothing better to watch out their windows except large dogs that are beneath them as a species and that, like fools with no damn sense, do everything humans tell them and silly humans carrying no food whom are therefore useless. He’s getting push-back from the bird lobby on his birding nonprofit. He says, they’re whining that “cats kill birds and shit.” Boo hoo, he says. I don’t know where he gets this attitude from. He is brilliant and the secondary income he brings in allows me to afford to eat in this city, since rent consumes all of my pay.
Bitchy VonScaredy-Cat has regressed further into bitchery and lame-assedness since the move from L.A. She’s actively working with her therapist to get the hell over herself. She’s decorated her bedroom, a cozy spot far under my bed, with furballs and dust. She hopes one day I will stop torturing her by trying to love her and clean her since the vet told me she’s too stupid to clean herself properly.
We are all very well, thanks for asking. One of my cats is awesome. Do you want the other one?