This would be Foot Foot, our cat. She has thoughts.
Damned right I'm Foot Foot. And damned right I have thoughts. To tell the truth, most of the time, most things make me mad, furious, even. I cannot stand this damned dog, I cannot stand the loud thing that sucks my essence out of the floor coverings, I cannot stand the doors I can't get out of, I cannot stand birds or squirrels. A lot of the time, I hate everything. So I stay in boxes. Boxes contain my seething anger enough so that I don't do things that will get that crazy lady running after me with that damned water bottle. I will just stay. In my box. Until the anger passes.
At first I thought that crazy lady wasn't going to let me write. I stared at her until she figured out I was mad about the dog getting to, and I think she was so scared I might pee on something that she agreed to let me do this. We have to be fair, don't we? So I told her I wanted a column, and that it should be called Boxed In, because that is both how I feel and what protects the crazy lady, the silly man, and their infernal, prancing fool of a dog. Make sure I've got my boxes, and nobody gets a little surprise. I know you know damned well what I am talking about.
And don't you dare move a box. I taught the crazy lady a lesson about that a few weeks ago. Move my box, and I will pee on your floor. I will pee on your floor in a spot you didn't know I knew about. And if you dispose of my box, you had damned well better be ready with a replacement. That kind of thing is up to me, not you. I decide. I am in control. I have powers that I will use, and I store them in my boxes.
I'm finished with this for now. I want my box, my catnip, and to be left the hell alone until these thoughts go down. Now feed me, fools.
Love, bunny rabbits, and all that pink fuzzy crap that the crazy lady said I have to sign these things off with.
Foot Foot Kittycat
2 comments:
Wow. I've never really seen PMS personified like that before now. No wonder some of us prefer to think "outside the box"! When you insist on peeing where you shouldn't just to make a point, you're secretly craving that special brand of squirt-bottle attention. And about this catnip addiction, better known as "kitty crack". I can indeed see this leading you down that long path to one of those tales like you see on "Behind The Music". I just hope that it bounces back to a happy ending. Please, get help. Seriously. Stealing hot dogs is indeed a crime, as well as is urinating on sacred ground; ask Ozzy about the latter crime.
I'll be sure to show this to her, but it can be hard to get her attention - - much less hold it. I wonder why she's been scoping out the area under the bed?
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