We know you’re all obsessing about what to give your cat for Christmas — catnip banana, four-platform cat tree, maybe a full spread of crinkle balls. What you might not know is that your cat is also obsessing about what to give you for Christmas. The problem is, cats don’t do Christmas well, because they’re bloodthirsty narcissist killers.
Here’s what your cat wants to give you for Christmas.
Your cat has this really cool idea to get you major organs from not just rodentia, which has been his thing lately, but all of the neighborhood wildlife. He’s thinking birds, a skunk, rabbits, maybe a small dog. And he’d like to arrange the offal into a shape on the back patio, maybe a five-pointed star, perhaps with some congealing blood and bits of gore (sorry) drizzled in a circle around it.
So, if you see something like that one day, look for a smiling cat with a “ta-da!” look on his face before you run screaming down the block.
What your cat did to the back of your chair was just brainstorming, spitballing, ripping some ideas into polyester. What she’d like to do is a full-on, claw-on-cushion re-imagining of your interior design philosophy, just in time for Christmas dinner. Her approach? Shred everything that can be shredded, and then nap. Or vice versa. Probably vice versa. Anyway, she thinks she has real talent, so be a good sport and try not to have your nervous breakdown in front of her.
Now, when you wake up and see every last ornament strewn across the floor, you’re not going to think this is much of a present. And it’s not. Even your cat doesn’t think it’s much of a present. But, you see, your cat doesn’t give a crap. You putting those ornaments just out of reach like you’re so freakin’ clever was an affront to the cat, an insult. The debt is now repaid. Meow!
You know how your cat will blargh all over a throw rug instead of taking ONE step to blargh all over the hardwoods? Thunderpaws knows how much easier it is to clean blargh off the hardwoods. She just doesn’t care. It’s her blargh. You should be making statues out of it. But for one solid week she’ll make a determined effort to blargh into like places that would make you happiest, like … your shoes? Thunderpaws is sort of clueless.
*If you change her food, all bets are off.
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