I love that my cats chase bugs.
I also love that they leave bug bits lolling about for me to step on.
I love that The Fat One had a dingleberry attached to his butt-fur this morning.
I also love that after The Fat One jumped on my bed this morning I noticed it.
I love that The Deceptively Cute One scratched at my bedroom window, desperate to get out and chase birds, for a consecutive 45 minutes.
I love that The Birds taunted The Deceptively Cute One with their heinous rain-forest noises.
I love that The Fat One takes his paw and pushes his water bowl across the floor and tips it over when he gets it to the hallway. Every. day.
I love that They eat more food than I do.
I love that my arm is merely a ladder to aid The Fat One in getting onto my bed.
I love that the Deceptively Cute One rolled over on the floor, exposing her belly, after I threatend to sell her to traveling research scientists as if to say, "Please, stupid human, I am too cute for you to follow through on any of your frequent threats. Look at me. I'm a bundle of dark fur and quizical facial expressions that I use to cow your ridiculous human brain into utter submission."
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Cats: The other white meat.
By the way, you are well aware that your cats are the work of Satan.
F&%$ing Llama WAITS until someone falls asleep on your couch and then jumps on their face. Directly onto their face.
"The Cute One" steps directly under your feet as your going down your TINY but STEEP staircase so as to kill you, particularly when you have very limited use of your legs.
I hate those cats. I do. But being a good friend means I deal with them. God Save Me.
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