Now don't get me wrong, it didn't used to be like this. I would enjoy petting the occasional feline, as long as it did what I wanted it to do (not bite or scratch me) and then went on it's way. That's the key point right there. Cats are not obedient. They do what the frickin want when they want to frickin do it. This includes jumping onto my roof at 3 in the morning and engaging in a round of coitus which produces the most horrifying sounds that I have ever heard, digging up my attempt of a flowerbed, and you guessed it, defecating their rotten insides on my lawn.
The last example is the one that has finally set me off. To paint you a brief picture of what happened, I came back to work from a pleasant lunch break at my house only to be plagued by the most putrid smell. (And being that I work in a food bank, I initially pushed it aside as there being a nice, smelly, rotten load of produce in the warehouse that we are gifted with from time to time.) But the smell didn't dwindle. On the contrary, it became more and more stanky. I'm talkin' burn-your-nose-hairs-and-cause-dry-heaves stanky. Guess where the cause of the fetid stench had decided to attach itself and traipse along with me wherever I went? That's right, the bottom of my right Teva was plastered with poo. I won't go through the details of how I actually rid my sandal of the smelly load, but it involved plenty of hot water and loads of disinfectant wipes. I was successful in cleaning my sandal after about an hour of scrubbing and scraping. But it wasn't pretty. And I have yet another nickname at work. I'll leave it up to your imagination to guess what it possibly could be.
So to sum it all up, I have had it. And in case you still don't understand what it is that I am trying to say, this picture expresses my sentiments pretty darn well.
1 comment:
meagan go ahead and squeeze the shat out of that darn cat-I'll back you up if the humane society comes after you-no one should have to put up with that HA!
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