An open letter to my cat
Dear Binx,
I will never understand how you get more entertainment out of a dead roach than a live one. All you do is bat the corpse around, pretending it's still alive, and chase it in the direction you just tossed it, before pouncing on its lifeless body and delivering a killing bite, lashing your tail all the while as if your prey weren't dead to begin with.
You get a very similar effect with a live roach, except it's for realsies.
I worry about you, Binx. You also run around screaming your head off for no apparent reason, as if possessed by the devil. I'm beginning to think you may be schizophrenic.
Either that, or you're just possessed. I'm really not sure which is better.
Love,
Anne
P.S.
Pooping is not a team sport. It's creepy when you follow me into the bathroom, wait until I'm on the toilet, and then get in your litterbox and stare up at me as if to say "I'm helping!" while you take a very smelly dump approximately six inches from my feet.
--Anne
I will never understand how you get more entertainment out of a dead roach than a live one. All you do is bat the corpse around, pretending it's still alive, and chase it in the direction you just tossed it, before pouncing on its lifeless body and delivering a killing bite, lashing your tail all the while as if your prey weren't dead to begin with.
You get a very similar effect with a live roach, except it's for realsies.
I worry about you, Binx. You also run around screaming your head off for no apparent reason, as if possessed by the devil. I'm beginning to think you may be schizophrenic.
Either that, or you're just possessed. I'm really not sure which is better.
Love,
Anne
P.S.
Pooping is not a team sport. It's creepy when you follow me into the bathroom, wait until I'm on the toilet, and then get in your litterbox and stare up at me as if to say "I'm helping!" while you take a very smelly dump approximately six inches from my feet.
--Anne