It's been awhile since I last had a pet, it's been years in fact.
It was/is a dog, but one chosen by Mrs Ex-Goth and therefore, inherently stupid. I also think said little pooch was gay - although I can't proove it, but I don't think licking your own testicles is normal.
My little brother, Mini-Goth, had a budgie which was slightly interesting, until he stood on it. After that incident, it didn't move too well. In fact, it didn't move at all on account of being rather dead.
But now, I have a much more Gothic pet - The Cat.
Which is cool, in a slightly understated, but darkly effeminate way.
The result though, is that I have to walk around my home like a Ninja. Going to the toilet in the middle of the night has ceased to be simply walking like a zombie to the toilet, and returning.
As soon as I move, The Cat is immediately around my feet asking questions.
"Where are you going?
Can I come?
Oh, not this room again - can't we go somewhere else?" with a tail like a question mark, he awaits my response.
In the morning, as I attempt to find coffee, I am overwhelmed by the feeling of pussy against my legs, probing for answers....
"YES - it's food time isn't it?" he inquires, in a cat-type voice whilst I endeavour to unglue my eyes.
"Is it playtime yet?"
"No it bloody well is not" is my unmeasured response.
"But I just knew that you were going to your office next - that's why I'm sat by the door with a smug cat-grin" *purr purr*
However, he does make me smile.
Por ejemplo, having decided he needed to go for a crap, he went to the cat toilet.
Unfortunately, having miscalculated his angles, he managed to stand in the litter tray and crapped on the floor. Satisfied he had done the correct thing, he carefully brushed the litter with his paw, looked back and obviously thought....
"Oh for fucks sake"
He then attempted to push the evidence under the tray.
Goth loves a tryer.....
9 comentarios:
Darkly effeminate, eh? Is this blog going to be renamed "My Boyfriend is a Cat" ?
Daphne, I LOL'ed :-)
Madame Joad must *never* see this blog. The whole antichrist thing wouldn't faze her at all but the prospect of a cat defecating on the floor (however well intentioned) would set my reasoned pleadings about cat ownership back some years. Not a word - any of you - OK?
Hmmm... OK, maybe 'ownership' is the wrong word if we're talking about cats.
Daphne -> I thought about that as a title for the post but....
Tom -> Mrs Joad is anti-pussy? How dare she
*skulks off to take a mini-bath, in a Jack Daniels flavour*
We had a goldfish once.
One of us claimed it was having a nervous breakdown, so Dad dropped an aspirin in the bowl "to make it better".
Don't think we bothered with pets after that...
At least it's in the general vicinity of the cat tray. Pickle used to select her own locations.
If she was angry with me for going away, she would wait until I was back and had unpacked my stuff, hop into my empty suitcase, and looking me straight in the eye, crap in it.
Sometimes the message is not in the MIAOW.
Che -> your father was a fish sniper?
JG -> could be worse 'dog shit on floor = bullet in gun' type thing
Auntie -> Blooming crikey - I actually thought Doris was 'house-trained'
Dip-dop -> I'm a bit worried about the "the bladder empties you" bit - are you taking the piss?
??
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