I came home early and caught the cat driving around the living room in his tank. He knows that he's not supposed to be doing that. (We have a formal agreement on this.) He does know, yes, but it is his house, so I try not to nag too awful much.
The cat is going on vacation, so I'll have to be doing all the napping for the next couple of weeks. At least I won't be having to eat stale dog food this time, and I know where the catnip is hidden. Wish me luck.
All suggestions relating to staffing changes must be approved by the house cat. No exceptions. Catnip bribes will not work this time either, but if you want to try licking me, I'm game.
Are pharmaceuticals hard to make? The cat doesn't think so. I may go into business. Anyone ever try depressants? Seems like there could be unrecognized pent up demand for something like that. I'll get around to it when I feel a bit more chipper.
Dear Diary — Poop on it. Poop on it all. Except for Merton. No poops on Merton. He's my P'Cat Overlord and does not accept poops on his self. So OK then — Poops all around but only for the ones what can handle it.
I just got off the phone with my bank. They don't like my money. They say it's too old and dirty, and no, they won't give it back, because. Just because. And if my attitude doesn't improve, they're going to repossess my pants and take away my cat, Fred. Fred says that he knows nothing about all this, though I happened to notice that his suitcase is packed, and he's wearing my pants.
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Me? Can't seem to keep my litter box clean any more.
