Feline Foibles

Meow.  Er...now. Now, I don't want this blog to devolve into a tirade about my best friend's cats, but I have more to add. I'd like to avoid  becoming like one of the many, many, many sites that post the oh-so-cute cat sitting in a basket. On the other hand, I'll most likely end up as some degree of "Cat Lady" as I have no skills, aspirations, or prospects. That and the fact that I enjoy screaming at strangers in the street. And the  small detail that I keep half-eaten bowls of oatmeal in my purse...Look this isn't about me. It's about my loathing of cats.

That blank stare is not an elaborate ruse. She's just dim.

I mean just look at her tiny, irritating face. She always looks flabbergasted. She loves sitting on suitcases. She once scurried up the stairs at the sound of a sneeze. She runs headlong into windows. She's also scratching at my door right now.

She's so dumb! Doesn't she know it can't rain indoors?

Zibah is the least subtle cat in the greater Oxfordshire area. She sits slyly on my lap whenever I have a delectable meal. "What? I've always enjoyed sitting by you and purring. What's that? Oh, I do suppose that's a steak; why I hadn't noticed! My word are you sure you can finish all that?" She knocks forks and notebooks off the counter with impunity then acts like she had nothing to with that suspicious clanging coming form the kitchen. Her favorite place to sit is next to the sink. The sink. 

Are you done with that?  

In summation, next time buy a dog. Because dogs are amazing and they never hiss at you. And they don't poop indoors. 

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Seriously just get a dog.