I Crap In a Box

I'm Maddie, a fabulous foul-mouthed Calico from Washington, D.C. I sleep, whine and poop a lot. Swearing like a sailor and vomiting like a supermodel round out my typical day. Tormenting my sister also warms my heart!

Monday, April 28, 2003

A sister?

Aunt Tiff keeps yapping about some girl cat named Romeo from Aunt Tom's neighborhood whom she wants to adopt. Bitch!

What the fuck is up with a girl being named Romeo? Is she a dyke kitty? Because I am not a lesbian kitty -- rather, I am fairly ambivalent toward anything that is not something upon which to sleep or feast or poop.

Mommy is trying to prepare me for this potential ordeal, but I don't like it. Not one bit. Mommy wouldn't even let me live with her until my claws had been removed and my coochie had been ripped out! And what's worse -- as if that were possible -- Mommy says she is going to have to take me to the vet to get me shot. What the fuck is up with that? She said that if we bring in a kitty who lives outside, I might be susceptible to feral kitty germs, so she wants to make sure I'm healthier than ever. Christ! That means I have to ride in the car and also see a doctor. Gaaak!!!

My old vet always used to yell at Mommy because he said I was fat. Motherfucker! He was a scrawny little fellow, and what he would do is weigh himself on the kitty scale, then get off and get back on with me in his arms, so he could tell how much I weigh. Mommy used to argue with him that my girth is mostly fur ("I'm not fat! I'm big boned!" -- Eric Cartman) She stopped taking me to him because it was hard for her to lift me into the car all the time (this was before we had our own car -- Grandma used to have to drive us). But Grandma is allergic to my abundance of fur, so she'd sneeze during the whole ride there. Oh, the agony.

Let me just establish, for any pussy who thinks he or she can enter my lair, that I am the Alpha Bitch. Do NOT mess with my food, my sofa, my litter or anything else in the house. Because it's mine, all mine!!! Even your room, Auntie Tiff, that you do not let me into, is mine. I just choose not to use that space because I do not like getting a foot up my ass every time I make it past the doorway.

*sigh* Perhaps I should get my own apartment, so no one will bother me and I can sleep peacefully. Or maybe Mommy will let me hide in her closet again. If she would just move my litterbox, food dish and water fountain in there, I'd have it made! Mommy, are you taking notes?

UPDATE
Oh holy motherfucking shit! I heard Mommy on the phone with the vet -- apparently I am going to get shot at 5 p.m. tomorrow! Oh, the humanity!!!

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