My cats have such rough lives — poor babies. I type this with sarcastic fingers, of course, because the only things rough about their lives are their own tongues. I’m sure they sit around complaining to each other about all their “significant” beefs with the human staff — you know, like kids whine about parents. Doesn’t mean there’s much credence to any of their grouses, but I suppose it gives them something to do.
If I were to listen in on some of their bellyaching sessions, I know this is what I’d hear:
“I don’t know who taught her to fill a food dish, but she’s doing it all wrong. First of all, why does food only appear twice a day? Is she trying to punish me for that time I walked across the birthday cake on the counter … five years ago? It was hideous, anyway — who uses canned frosting? Cheap! And the problems don’t stop when she finally does fill the dish. Remember how she was saying that in restaurants, the server refills her water when it’s still half-full? Why doesn’t this happen with our dishes? When we’ve eaten half, she should come around and give us a refill! She is a horrendous server.”
“A basket of warm laundry is totally my jam. We live for this! What’s up with her need to remove me from a basket when I’m clearly enjoying myself and catching a snooze? Doesn’t she know we need our sleep? Geez! I know sometimes she ‘allows’ me to stay in the basket a long time, but still. We should get first dibs on the baskets all the time, regardless if she needs to immediately wear some of the items inside of it. You know what that’s called? Selfish.”
“I feel like a second-class citizen when I can’t get to the other side of a door. What, am I not good enough to see what’s on the other side? Is she having a party, hanging out in boxes and hoarding catnip? Yeah, I’ll bet that’s what’s happening. And screen doors are even worse because we can see what she’s doing. It’s never anything awesome, but I think she’s hiding something anyway. Totally not cool.”
“Is she blind? Didn’t she see that clump right in the middle of the litter box? How are we expected to properly relieve ourselves when we have to step around that clump? I know it’s only one clump, but it’s ruining my elimination experience. Can’t things just be easy? It’s so simple — get it together and just remove the stinkin’ clump.”
“She knows I like to sleep in her lap when she’s working. It’s warm! She pets me! What’s not to like? I know she likes it, too, so I have absolutely no clue why she wants to go and ruin it in favor of visiting the bathroom. She says it’s uncomfortable, but I think she can hold it for a long, long time. Again with the selfish. And she thinks she has bathroom troubles? Has she seen the clump in the middle of the litter box?”
What would your cat say in a bellyaching session? Tell us in the comments!
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About the Author: Angie Bailey is an eternal optimist with an adoration of all things silly. Loves pre-adolescent boy humor, puns, making up parody songs, thinking about cats doing people things and The Smiths. Writes Catladyland, a cat humor blog, Texts from Mittens (birthed right here on Catster) and authored whiskerslist: the kitty classifieds, a silly book about cats wheeling and dealing online. Partner in a production company and writes and acts in comedy web series that features sketches and mockumentaries. Mother to two humans and three cats, all of which want her to make them food.
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