My cat, Gerard Butler, recuperates after his stressful bathing experience
If you thought the Oscars last night were all about drama, you obviously did not see my cat, Gerard Butler's prima donna performance in the bathtub between the hours of 4 and 4:30, Pacific Standard Time. You are probably wondering why my cat, Gerard Butler, needed a bath in the first place since he is constantly licking his own body with his tongue, so I will tell you. My cat, Gerard Butler, has fleas. Seriously. He cannot be comfortable with his constant scratching, so you would think he would be grateful that I took the initiative and shelled out some cash for a bottle of flea shampoo. But he was not. His constant meows took on the tenor of guttural moans as I lathered up his flea-infested regions within the delightful confines of our bathroom. You would think I was trying to kill him when really I was just trying to save him. Not only that, but today I walked all the way from Walgreen's lugging a heavy container of expensive Tidy Cats kitty litter for his cat toilet instead of just buying a bag of Johnny Cat at the corner store. My cat, Gerard Butler, is spoiled. Several hours later, my elbows are still sore. Next thing I know, my cat, Gerard Butler, is going to be demanding Fancy Feast. If that day comes, it might be time for my cat, Gerard Butler, to go live with his father again.
No comments:
Post a Comment