My cat is a lemon.
Living with her is about as awesome as squeezing said lemon into one of the wounds she inflicts.
But when she’s not busy inflicting bodily harm, she usually divides her time between sleeping and watching the hummingbirds come and go to her newly hung bird feeder that someone installed for her viewing pleasure.
And how does the ingrate repay me?
Yes, yes…bloodlettings to free me from the evil spirits in my system, sure.
But, other than those hostilities, usually she sleeps all day. Then, when I decide to go sit in the cold wind, protected only by a tent from a rainy evening in the gutter or perhaps go out and give a few rides to earn some money to keep her in the style to which she is accustomed…I suddenly am met with this psychotic bullshit.
Really, Corn Kitty?
You want to know how I know?
She’s vacated the position in the picture above and left only a poop marking her space. Yet, when I come home and discover the gift, I’m met with a neutral stare that innocently suggests,
Somebody shit on the floor.