Note to self: make sure before you shut the closet door, after getting a soda, to check for the cat, you don’t want to kill him before he gets a year old.
Why does my cat hate my breath?
The other day, I farted and my cat ran in fear to get under the bed.
Daniel didn’t know that whiskers grow back; he was afraid that when Andy burnt his whiskers, when he sniffed my candle, that Andy’s face would be lopsided forever.
I think my cat legitimately wants to eat my toes for breakfast.
My friend’s eyes widen as she looks down at my lap,”What happened to your hand,” I look down, “my cat.”
My dog gets jealous of my cat; anytime I give Andy a new toy, Sophie will swoop in, grab it, and burry it under my bed pillows — I can’t win.
“Awe, you want to cuddle with me,” purring starts, “ow, ow, ow, stop clawing me!”
Bang! Crash! Smash! Dud! Splat! “Ugh! Andy! Can you get up and get him out of the kitchen, I’m too tired.”
“Hahahahahahahahahahaha. He thinks cats are cuddly and sweet. Hahahahahahahahaha, he obviously never had one.”