(Don’t know Emo Kitty? Catch up here: https://smihlenfeld.wordpress.com/2012/08/20/hello-kitty-has-nothing-on-us/ and here: https://smihlenfeld.wordpress.com/2012/08/21/emo-kitty-and-friend/)
My cats are the 99 percent and they want me to know it.
Every damn place I move, or wherever I move things to or from, they are there. It’s like I pick up a bag and boom – they are occupying that spot. Going to the bathroom? Boom. So are they. In that exact spot. Occupied. Clearing the kitchen counter to do a buttload of dishes – Boom! Its not cleared anymore! Occupied!
Yes, they are cute. But mainly they are just pains in my ass. As a matter of fact, they are literally pains in my ass because I do believe that I have sat on them because they were occupying the couch and, therefore, ended up occupying my ass.
Cats! There are eight other rooms in this house at any given moment that you are more than welcome to occupy while I am anywhere doing anything in whichever the ninth leftover room might be. I know I am *not* this interesting! I know this because when I want to give you attention you would rather lick your undersides.
The second worse thing they do, besides occupying everything, is scrounging like they haven’t eaten in a week. On the counters, on the floor, in the garbage, on the table – one cat trying to outdo the other, licking carpet fibers and sniffing around non-stop. GET OUT OF HERE!
And they are well fed! I promise! But, ever since we doubled the cat population in this house, it is like they try to outdo each other at the most annoying things. Who can jump on me more while I sleep, who can trip me more, who can be more demanding in the mornings, and, most obnoxiously, who can steal the most food.
What’s the big deal, you say? They’re just cats doing what cats do, you say? Well, I didn’t want to have to go here, but clearly you aren’t understanding me and what I’m up against here.
So last week I had just took the lid off the pot of chili on the stove when I thought I could run to the bathroom *really quick* without any worries about the cats getting into it.
I hear that familiar clink of the pot being moved on the stove and I bust outta the bathroom, eager to catch the offending cat in the act and squirt them good with the water sprayer and… suddenly… I don’t need to go to the bathroom anymore. But I do need a pair of dry pants.
I’m sorry you had to read about my cats occupying my ass and me pissing my pants. I am. I’m so sorry,in fact, that in order to make up for it I will share something special with you: I like to get back at my cats. And I think that shaming stuff is totally lame, so I do my own thing. Enjoy.
PS No cats were hurt during the making of these photos.
PPS All cats pictured totally deserve to be made fun of.
PPS I secretly love both of my cats.