It’s Mother’s Day and my son’s birthday today. Since I’ve already told my mother how I feel about her (don’t roll your eyes, it was nice … thoughtful even) and revealing how old my son is makes me old, I’m just going to talk about my cat. I mean, look at this cat. Normally Shaylee is the Queen of Refinement, the epitome of poise and grace. And here she is, right when the realization struck that she had rolled herself just an inch too close to the edge of the bed necessitating a very unladylike maneuver to keep her from meeting the floor a tad harder than she would’ve liked. Laughing at moments like these are just one more reason I’m going to meet a fiery end.
So, my cat Shaylee eats crickets. I know. Yuck. The thing is, she won’t eat the legs. Again. I know. Double-yuck. My unfortunate part in all of this bloody chaos is to clean up the mess left behind by my
fur-covered psychopath lovely pet. It is not a job that I relish, in any way, shape, or form. If I find a cricket, I will gently catch it, and put it outside — after a stern lecture on its ill-advised decision to enter my patrolled abode … with the hopes it will scurry off, never to return to these murder-filled halls. But all too often, Shaylee is more observant, and certainly faster, than I could ever be. Which leads to cricket legs being scattered about the house for me to find. Let me be clear. Just. The. Legs.
I hate my life.
“you call them crickets, I call them impromptu snacks”
The derpiest derp to ever live in Derpland. Now, I’m not saying she should currently be sitting on the golden throne of Derpland, but she is definitely in the line of succession.
Soft demon, warm demon, little ball of hate…
don’t let her cuteness fool you
I think…I just think perhaps…someone is hungry. And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the troublemaker in the door was the one who put her up to it. Does that make Shaylee the feline mafia boss and the ne’er-do-well on the bed (aka Holly) the minion? These two often have a simple yet civil tolerance for each other — when they work together, it’s time to worry. BUT I’m the boss in this house and I’ll feed the critters when I’m dang good and ready. So there.
Okay…so if you’ll excuse me, I have to go now and feed the critters.
Do you ever get the feeling someone or something is watching you? I get that all the time. Weird.
Having just written about villains, I suppose it’s appropriate to come home to this scene. I mean, it’s just my luck, right? Two dastardly miscreants banding together cannot be a good thing, especially for me. The ne’er-do-well has had it out for me ever since I put a baby lock on the treat cabinet, thereby successfully foiling her ongoing thievery. Should I even try to sleep tonight? Or should I just fortify myself with caffeine so that I can keep a hyped-up eye out for trouble? The sad thing is, I’m not sure who is more nefarious…Penguin or the ne’er-do-well (aka Holly). For all I know, SHE’s the voice whispering evil-nothings in HIS ear, not the other way round. Say a prayer for me, my friends. I’m going to need all the help I can get.