Meow to my feline buds, and a growl to all you humanoids who think pet clothes are fun. Hmmph. That Angie person who delivers the cat chow around here will not be writing this, as I have tricked her into locking the door behind her when she brought breakfast to me. Silly woman, at least put on your pajama bottoms before you go outside.
Now, listen closely, if you want to spare the silly woman additional humiliation. I. Want. That. Hideous. Pink. Bow. Contraption. Destroyed.
Or, you could put it on a dog and spread the humiliation, whichever. I. Just. Want. It. Gone. From. Around. My. Neck. Thank you.
I am not amused by "haute CAT-oure." I am an outside cat. I am a lounger. I am a snuggler when I feel like it. I am a watchcat. I am not a mannequin, er maybe that should be cat-equin. Whichever.
Bring me your scrambled eggs. Bring me your milk. Bring me your tiny, carefully chopped up bits of ham. Bring me ice cubes for my water on a sweltering summer day. BUT DON'T BRING ME ANY FREAKIN' PINK BOWS FROM THE CLEARANCE AISLE AT WAL-MART. That goes for blue bows from the clearance aisle, full price yellow bows, peach bows from the hoity-toity doggie store, too.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I wish to sneak around the side of the garage and watch that silly woman try to wake up the kiddos so they can let her back in the house. Funny, the way humans look when they try to run in their underwear. Hmmph. How do you think she would look if I could stick that pink froufrou bow around her neck, or even her ankle, whichever.
Hmmph. I am so out of here.