Dear Kisa:

I get you are Miz Neurotic Spazzycat 2010, but seriously. Repeat after me:

THE ARM. IS NOT. A SPRINGBOARD.

Someday you will figure out that the complex chain of events that starts with your claws embedding in my skin (SURPRAIZ BLOODSHED!), then leading me to let out a rather loud "OW", and then leads to Darwin Enforcer-Britches getting all ( Read more... )

Dear Nameless, Faceless Imbecile Who Was Probably At The Dog-Park Sometime Before Me:

You JACKASS. Throw. Your gum. Away. I spent twenty minutes CUTTING a wad of filthy spearminty CRAP out from between my dog's toes.I have no words for your stupid ( Read more... )

Dear Kisa,

Seriously. You're five years old. This is easily "adult" in cat-years.

FIGURE OUT HOW TO COVER YOUR CRAP PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

AUGH.

ALL LOVE AND KISSES ARE WITHHELD UNTIL YOU COVER YOUR POO,
MAMA-CAT

The kind of sad part is that Bronte used to do it for her.

 ...I really, really love it when a hunch works out.

I got the holiday Drs. Foster and Smith catalog this weekend, which is, for those not in the know, a pet catalog.  Everything you could ever want or need for your pet in one handy-dandy catalog.  (Personally, I prefer Jeffers Pets, but I digress.)  As I was thumbing through, I saw this canned ( Read more... )

Dear Kisa,

Yes, that is your sister.  Stop hissing at her.  I get it -- the meds make her smell funny.  It's still her.  Trust me on this.

The hissing is getting real old real fast.

Love and Kisses,
MamaCat

PS:  WTF?  You suddenly simply cannot use the same litterbox as Bronte?  Get over it.  NOW.

PPS:  Pee anywhere else BUT the litterbox ( Read more... )

I love my vet's office.  OMG, I love my vet's office ( Read more... )

I never would've believed it in a hundred million years.

I'm playing fetch with Kisa.

Yes, really.

FETCH.

With a cat.

WTF.