Well, pesty cakes, have you calmed down yet?
If you grab me off the counter and put me on the floor again, I'll bite you a third time :(
I don't think so...frowny face.
Pleassssse...cat's don't do smiley's and frowny's.
Okay, blank head...there's always time-out in the laundry room if you persist on being persistently out-of-control.
I'm starving! You refuse to feed me more than two times a day and my dish is only half full, bad mommy.
Doesn't that little wad of fat hanging from your tummy and dragging on the floor get in your way, chubby cheeks?
Lacey says extended tummies are a sign of malnutrition and her tummy is ultra-streamline. She says you love her more than me, mommy meany.
She's a perfect shape because she only eats half as much as you; anyway, since when did you actually start listening to Lacey. You told me she has it in for you, big time. What changed, little half-smarts?
Charlotte!
Oh, your real mommy.
She can't be. I try to lovingly play with her; then she calls me Beelzebub, and beats me up.
Ah...my little terror on paws...she's streetwise. It's one of your life lessons on how not to be a royal pain-in-the-butt. It'll make you a better kitty in the long run.
Better than what? I'm a cat...it doesn't get any better than that. I'm already the best!
Well - there are cats...and then there are CATS. You definitely fit into the latter category, my little narcissist.
Am I supposed to understand what you just said?
I'm going to put you on the floor for the third time, and there had better not be another fang hole on my right hand before you hit the deck.
But there's food on that plate you have.
That's my lunch, you atomic headache...it's mine...ALL MINE! I'm not sharing.
No comments:
Post a Comment