Tag Archives: my cat’s name is maceo

One Move, and Fido Gets It

Image result for funny cat

A few years ago, the HB ran a story headlined “Why Kittens Suck.” I was reminded of this while flipping through some old articles, and decided the headline, while in jest, was too harsh. Kittens do not suck; in truth, my house would be full of ’em if I weren’t such a dog nut.

But while flipping through the posts, I saw an ad for Avengers: Endgame. The scene featured The Hulk, the unfortunate doctor belted by gamma rays who was turned into a huge human with tiny patience. And I began to think: What would happen if our domesticated pets were doused with radioactive hocus pocus?

And here’s the bottom line: Humans would be dead. We’d drown beneath loving dog slobber and bleed to death as cats batted us about like yarn mice. Ok, maybe that’s still too harsh, but consider how entitled our feline friends are when they’re small:

Cats decide which bed is their bed. It is known.

And if you think they’re going to fully appreciate that $1,000 cat tree you bought for them, think again…

Because nothing gives cats joy like a good cardboard box, let’s be honest.

And in lieu of a box, they will sit in other box-like things — the more inconvenient to you, the better.

 You don’t decide what goes in the litter box. Your cat does.

Despite your best intentions, cats will poop where they decide is best to poop.

They shall sit where they deign to sit.

They don’t give a flying fart about wet paint…

Or Christmas spirit. Again: It is known.

You don’t pick out what you’re wearing today. Your cat does.

Paper towels? Only to be used at your cat’s discretion.

Enormously adorable cat bed? Not if Whiskers isn’t feeling it.

Admit it: Not only do cats live their lives exactly how they want to, but they also decide when you get to live **yours**.

‘Cause at the end of the day, there’s only room for one boss of the house…and you aren’t it, babe.