Gagh
Χριστόφορος
My girfriend got a cat. She found a manx on the side of the road. Half-manx, actually. He has a nub which I've found comes in handy.
I'm so-so on cats. I don't like long-haired cats because they often look like something I pull out of my bathtub drain (remember, I live with three females but I'm the one who's virtually bald). I'll tolerate most short-hairs so long as they stay out of my way.
Mel named him "Bossman." Funny, I thought I was the bossman around here.
Guess not, huh?
This b*stard hates me. It's getting personal. I tried making friends with him but he looks at me and treats me like I'm less than scum. I was squatted down to reach into a low cabinet...didn't have a shirt on...and apparently my back looks just like a scratching post or bark or something because he decided to sharpen his claws on me. That's when I found out the nub comes in handy.
For cheap thrills, he likes to stalk my ducks and jump in the middle of them. He destroys newspapers. He pissed on my computer chair and I'm just glad he didn't piss on my keyboard or there most certainly would be a killing. Mel says he's going through a phase. I'd like to see him go through a tree-shredder.
Mel got me this water pistol from Tesco and told me to spray him whenever he's somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. What am I...five? I didn't know they still made water pistols. This is what prompted pissing in my chair.
Mel wants to take him to the vet and get him fixed. I've offered to de-ball him for free. She won't take me up on that.
So...I've taken to screaming at him at the top of my lungs whenever I see him. Every time. He can't handle that; apparently I look like a giant...well, coyote... or something. Of course, he runs to Mel and then looks at me like he just witnessed a triple axe murder or something.
I predict a cat disappearance sometime in the near future. We can't keep feeding it these things:
I'm so-so on cats. I don't like long-haired cats because they often look like something I pull out of my bathtub drain (remember, I live with three females but I'm the one who's virtually bald). I'll tolerate most short-hairs so long as they stay out of my way.
Mel named him "Bossman." Funny, I thought I was the bossman around here.
Guess not, huh?
This b*stard hates me. It's getting personal. I tried making friends with him but he looks at me and treats me like I'm less than scum. I was squatted down to reach into a low cabinet...didn't have a shirt on...and apparently my back looks just like a scratching post or bark or something because he decided to sharpen his claws on me. That's when I found out the nub comes in handy.
For cheap thrills, he likes to stalk my ducks and jump in the middle of them. He destroys newspapers. He pissed on my computer chair and I'm just glad he didn't piss on my keyboard or there most certainly would be a killing. Mel says he's going through a phase. I'd like to see him go through a tree-shredder.
Mel got me this water pistol from Tesco and told me to spray him whenever he's somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. What am I...five? I didn't know they still made water pistols. This is what prompted pissing in my chair.
Mel wants to take him to the vet and get him fixed. I've offered to de-ball him for free. She won't take me up on that.
So...I've taken to screaming at him at the top of my lungs whenever I see him. Every time. He can't handle that; apparently I look like a giant...well, coyote... or something. Of course, he runs to Mel and then looks at me like he just witnessed a triple axe murder or something.
I predict a cat disappearance sometime in the near future. We can't keep feeding it these things:
Stroke him and love him and call him Mr. Wiffleshanks.
